


Under the Skin

by Girrlkitty, sgcgategirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-06
Updated: 2006-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 119,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girrlkitty/pseuds/Girrlkitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgcgategirl/pseuds/sgcgategirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little accident with Ancient technology, puts Beckett and McKay a little closer in touch with the Ancients than they originally anticipated, but will they survive the encounter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something to do at work when we didn't feel like working and we wanted to try something a little different. With Girrlkitty writing Carson and SGC Gategirl writing Rodney, we kept every scene in one of the two perspectives, with the other author writing the other character's dialogue—whoever was in the scene. Trust us, it worked. We had no real plot, just a vague sense of "let's write something" and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy our first venture into joint fics. Also, much thanks to triciabyrne1978 for the beta. Much appreciated.

Doctor Rodney McKay sighed, hunched over his metal coffee mug, staring into its light-brown depths as he tried to lean on only one cheek of his ass. It was harder than it looked and took far too much of his valuable concentration.

Why couldn't they be home already? He needed to lie down in his nice comfy bed—prescription mattress and all. He couldn't really rest here on the Daedalus. The guest quarters weren't any bigger than a closet and that was just a little too close for comfort.

So, here he was in the mess, "navel gazing" into his coffee and wishing he was anywhere else but here.

Until they got back to Atlantis, there wasn't much for him to do. Sheppard was sleeping—that man could fall asleep anywhere. Teyla was meditating or something. At least that's what she said she was going to do an hour or so ago. Ronon was in the infirmary, of course, staying put due to some of Beckett's good drugs.

Shifting a little, he winced. He wished Carson would cough up the good drugs for him. And if he went anywhere near the infirmary, he wasn't sure what the sheep-shearer would do to him. He'd spit off several comments when he'd been in there earlier—right after they'd brought Ronon back. While it might not have been the most…opportune time to ask for something, he certainly didn't need the name calling.

Hearing a shuffle of feet, McKay glanced up, finding himself staring at the devil himself—and a weary-looking one at that.

"Someone finally kick you out of the infirmary, too?"

***

Doctor Carson Beckett stared at the patient charts in front of him, the letters and numbers starting to blur before his eyes. When had he last slept? He found he couldn't remember.

He shook his head and rose, moving over to the gurney where Ronon Dex was sleeping. It had been awkward, removing the tracking device in the confines of a moving jumper, the rest of Ronon's teammates hovering around. But the operation had been successful, easier this time since he knew what he was looking for.

They had made a brief pit stop to dump the device back on the planet, and then gotten everyone back to the Daedalus. He had ordered everyone to go get some well-deserved rest, banning them from the infirmary unless they were bleeding or dying, then had whisked his patient away, determined to make sure the man rested while Carson still had some control over him.

He reached out, touching Ronon's wrist, automatically checking his pulse. It was odd, but ever since med school, he had found this to be relaxing. When he knew a patient was out of danger, was resting comfortably—or at least as comfortably as he could get them—he would wait until they were sleeping, then count their heartbeats, reassuring him they were alive.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, counting, before a touch on his shoulder startled him. Dropping his hold on Ronon, he turned to find Anne Matthews, his head nurse, giving him "the look".

He knew that expression, knew what was coming.

"Sir, you need to go get some rest. You won't do anyone any good if we have to admit you as a patient."

Several objections flitted across his mind, but, with a sigh, he decided to give in. He was, admittedly, too tired to argue with her, and when she got in this mood, he knew she would keep at him until she wore him down. "Aye, lass. I'll go grab some dinner, then rest. Call me if anything changes."

Shrugging out of his lab coat, he draped it over a chair and headed out. Maybe they still had turkey sandwiches left in the mess hall. That was one of the few benefits to working on the Daedalus—they only stocked Earth provisions.

Rounding the corner, he grabbed a tray and loaded up—they were out of turkey, but there was some tuna left, which was his second choice. Glancing around for a seat, he spotted Rodney looking at a cup of what he assumed was coffee. Frowning, he made his way over to the man. Why was he drinking stimulants when he should be sleeping?

As he approached, Rodney looked up, a half-hearted sneer crossing his face. "Someone finally kick you out of the infirmary, too?"

With a sigh, Carson dropped his tray on the table and sat down. "Unlike some people, I know when to take a break." He looked pointedly at the cup in the other man's hand.

McKay scowled, eyes dropping to his mug. "I am relaxing."

Carson huffed into his sandwich. "Coffee is not known for its relaxing qualities."

"Yeah, well, maybe where you come from." He shifted, hissing as a flash of pain flew across his face.

Carson's eyes sharpened, looking closely at Rodney. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn't missed the pain. "Lad, if you can't sleep because it hurts, why din'na you come to the infirmary and let me give you something?"

The scientist's scowled deepened. "The last time I asked I was threatened with additionally bodily harm." He paused, eyes firmly fixed on his mug, the liquid swirling around with every movement of his hands. "I'm fine."

Carson felt his eyebrows go up. Of all people to be deterred by a little bit of rough speech, Rodney hadn't been one he would have expected. But then, he could see how tired the chief scientist was, so in a way, it didn't surprise him. Heck, he felt the same way, so worn out it was easier to retreat than argue. He pulled a package of low-grade pain killers he had snagged to take for a headache out of his pocket, and pushed them over the table.

"These will'na kill all the pain, but should take the edge off enough to let you sleep. And no," he decided to head off any paranoia before it could start, "that won't interact with anything else I've given you."

Rodney fingered the packet, the foil crinkling under the light pressure, but didn't pick it up, instead pushing it back across the table. "I'm fine. I'll sleep once we get back to Atlantis. It's only a few more hours now and this," he raised his mug, "is all I need."

Carson scowled, too tired to deal with irritable scientists. He considered his options. "Rodney, you can either take those, forget the coffee, and go to bed, or I'll have one of the marines haul you to the infirmary where I'll have Anne strap you to a gurney to make sure you stay put. Your choice."

Rodney raised an eyebrow, face settling into one of its more stubborn expressions. "I said I'm fine." He rose to his feet, picking up the metal cup from the table. "I have some things to discuss with Hermiod. Thanks again for your most valuable medical advice."

Carson wondered why, exactly, Rodney felt the need to be stubborn. Was it just to irritate him? He managed to catch the eye of the marine near the door, motioning for him to stop Rodney from leaving. Downing the last few bites of sandwich, he abandoned the tray on the table, letting someone else put it away. That was the least of his worries right now.

"I will'na let you pass out on my watch, since I don't think I have any needles big enough to penetrate your thick skull when you knock yourself senseless."

Rodney glared at Carson and the Marine equally, sidestepping around the burly man, getting one foot into the hallway before the marine grabbed his upper arm. "What part of 'I'm fine' do you not understand? Do I have to try saying it with a Scottish accent for you to comprehend that? I'm. Fine."

Carson ignored the ranting, motioning for the grinning Marine to follow. He started down the hall, reaching up to activate his comm. "Anne, luv, I'm bringing a stubborn goat in for you to look after for a bit. Can you prep the isolation area? I want him to get some sleep with no distractions."

Glancing back, he watched as Rodney tried to free his arm, managing instead to slosh the coffee over the edge of the mug he was clutching in his hand, the liquid spilling onto the floor, barely missing his boots. "Would you call off your goon? This wasn't funny when it started and has quickly descended into the depths of absolutely not humorous. I know you must enjoy the power trip, but this is pushing it too far."

Carson turned, his weariness flashing across his face before he could hide it again. "Rodney, I'm your doctor. As much as you like to think you know what's best for you all the time, it's my job to make sure you don't push it too far. We aren't in a crisis at the moment, so there is nae need for you to stay awake. In fact, just the opposite. If a crisis does come up and you can't perform because I din'na get you to sleep, well..." He trailed off, wiping a hand over his face. He dug the packet of ibuprofen out of his pocket that he had grabbed before leaving the table. "Look, just take this and try to get some sleep, and I'll leave you alone."

"What will make you understand that I'm fine, that I don't need you mother-henning me? Do I need to speak slower? Or maybe louder will work." He tried to cross his arms, but the Marine had yet to loosen his grip, which made the gesture nearly impossible. Rodney scowled at the man, looking away when, after several seconds, it didn't make one iota of difference. "Until you barged into the mess I was minding my own business, relaxing even. You're the one that was playing Rambo—or Braveheart in your case—today. Just because you're dead on your feet doesn't mean everyone else is. If you just let me get back to my own way of relaxing," he tugged at his trapped arm again, "everything will be fine."

For a moment, Carson considered defeat. After all, he really didn't want to do this. But another glance at Rodney, and he knew he had to make another attempt. "You were drinking a stimulant, and you just said you were going to work with Hermiod. That doesn't qualify as relaxing. Not to mention you aren't technically cleared yet—I gave a temporary okay to let you participate in Ronon's rescue, I didn't okay you for full, active duty. And right now, I am ordering you, as the Chief Medical Officer, to get some rest. In your room or the infirmary, it's your choice."

Rodney finally managed to wrench his limb from the Marine, and crossed his arms over his chest—careful to not spill the remainder of his coffee—he tilted his chin upward, his expression hardening. "I've been successfully taking care of myself for the past thirty-eight years. I don't need someone to tell me when to go to bed. Isn't it time for you to tuck in Ronon, anyway?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

Carson decided to try a different tactic. As Rodney walked away, he called Hermiod, letting him know that Rodney was on the way and he was disobeying direct medical orders to go rest. The naked alien agreed to prevent Rodney from working on any of his systems. With a sigh, Carson headed back to the infirmary, guessing that when Rodney was thwarted, he would come looking for someone—him—to vent his wrath on. But then, at least he would be in the infirmary at that point.

***

Rodney figured the fink of a sheep-shearing doctor had called Hermiod, whining that he should be sleeping instead of gallivanting through the ship. At least, that's what he'd do if their positions were reversed. Well, not reversed, reversed. He didn't want anything to do with those squishy sciences. But that was also why he wasn't headed to Hermiod's section of engineering. There were plenty of places to go to get some peace and quiet that didn't involve bothering conspiring naked aliens. McKay swore the Asgard was still ticked about the fact Rodney had figured a way through the Wraith's jamming codes first.

So what if he was tired? He'd saved the city on far less sleep. He could work a little more until they got back to Atlantis. There was just something…unsettling about this ship.

That, and he swore they were using some citrus-based cleaner.

Dragging his free hand wearily across his face, he headed to one of the smaller sections of engineering he'd commandeered as soon as he was on board. It was out of the way and quiet, allowing him to work—when he wasn't worried about what they'd find when they got to Sateda. He'd brought a few Ancient devices from Atlantis he'd been fussing with over the past week or so and his laptop was already there, hooked into the Daedalus computer system.

He'd fiddle a bit, take some notes, keeping busy until they got home.

Simple. Calming. Relaxing. See, he did know how to rest—no matter what Carson said.

***

Carson ignored the evil glare Anne sent his way when he arrived back in the infirmary, after being shooed out so short a time ago. He grabbed his lab coat, pulling it back on. If he was going to have to wait for Rodney, he might as well get some work done. Otherwise, he would probably fall on his face.

He went back to his research, brought along from Atlantis to keep him occupied while they sped towards Ronon and rescue. Fiddling with it, it wasn't long before he realized he was getting absolutely nothing done, and in fact might make a mistake that would set him back.

It had been probably a good hour since he got back. He had expected Rodney much sooner than this. A quick call to Hermiod solved the problem: the wily scientist hadn't gone there and no one had seen him.

Carson knew where the small lab Rodney had taken to using was located—he had been down there on the way over to give Rodney pain medication earlier in the trip. Why was he being so stubborn? It was enough to drive a man mad. Looking at his watch, he knew the drugs he had administered before the mission would have worn off by now, leaving a considerable amount of pain.

Gathering up a syringe of medication, he started to head out. But on second thought, he stopped, realizing if Rodney was smart enough to avoid Hermiod, he might have been smart enough to go somewhere other than the lab. He had to know Carson wouldn't give up that easily, not when it came to the health of his charges.

And the blasted lab was about as remote as you could get in a space ship. He really didn't want to walk that far if he didn't have to. He decided to push his luck one more time and see if Hermiod would help again. The little Asgard had been very irritated with Atlantis' chief scientist lately, so Carson hoped he would be willing to conspire against him again.

"Hermiod, this is Doctor Beckett again. Is there is any way you can locate Rodney for me?"

There was a pause before the alien replied, the tone edging toward condescending. "I shall endeavor to do so, however, he has not logged into the computer system since returning to the Daedalus. Have you tried contacting him directly?"

"I din'na want to let him know I am coming." With a sigh, Carson realized he was going to have to check the lab. "I'm going to head to his lab to check there. If you find him somewhere else, please let me know."

"Understood, Doctor Beckett. Hermiod out."

Patting his pockets down once more to be sure he had everything, he set out for the lab, Anne's loud, dramatic sighs and pointed looks following him out the door. He was well aware that he was, essentially, refusing to follow his own advice. But in this case, he couldn't rest until Rodney did, as he couldn't run the risk of the man collapsing. Atlantis needed him too much to let that happen, far more than they needed an ordinary doctor. Not to mention, he considered Rodney a friend, and hated to see him both in pain and so exhausted he could barely see straight.

He hadn't heard from Hermiod by the time he made it to the tiny room, but when he peeked around the corner, he saw Rodney, shoulders hunched, working over something. Knowing how the man tuned out everything around him when he was engaged in something, Carson moved in quietly, slipping the syringe out of his pocket. If he was lucky, he could give the scientist the medication, get a few marines to move him to the infirmary, then, once they arrived back in Atlantis, make sure he was settled in his own quarters to sleep off the past few days.

***

Absently scratching an itch on his nose, Rodney poked at the insides of the Ancient device with his free hand. No matter how many times he took one of these things apart, he always discovered something new and amazing—not that he wouldn't have been able to come up with something just like it himself if he had the right components.

This one was no different. Although, he hadn't figured out what it was for yet.

Shifting a little, the right side of his butt numb since he was resting his entire weight on it, he grimaced, but kept working, his back to the door. He probably had another two hours of uninterrupted time before he'd have to pack everything up.

Reaching in with his fingers, he tugged carefully at some of the wires, trying to visualize how they were connected within the part of the device he hadn't disassembled yet.

The sharp pinch in his arm, however, wasn't expected.

Glancing up sharply, his eyes found Carson standing beside him, a now empty needle in his hands. His eyes widened, realizing what had just happened, his muscles already slowing.

"Carson! How…how could you even think in all of your logic that that was a good thing?" His volume was on loud and he didn't care. "You can't just drug people into submission to have your way with them. This is…important work…"

His fingers shifted, still deep within the device, a brief shock of pain radiating up his arm.

"Ow!" he said, flinching instinctively, trying to jerk his hand out as he rose to his feet. The second jolt was even more painful than the first.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Carson's wide blue eyes were the last thing he remembered seeing before a swirl of colors blotted out his vision.

***

For a moment, Carson thought his heart had stopped as Rodney slipped to the ground. He immediately fell to his knees next to the unconscious body, checking for pulse, looking under his eyes, hollering at him to wake up. He turned his radio on while he worked, calling for Anne to bring a gurney down to Rodney’s lab. He knew she knew where it was, since he had overheard the nurses talking about Franken-McKay and wondering what he did closeted away while on board the ship.

After a few minutes, before they had arrived, he found himself puzzled. Rodney was still out, but none of his vitals—at least those he could check here and not in the infirmary—seemed out of whack. His breathing was regular, his heartbeat no faster than normal. He had seen the spark, and checked for all the signs electrical damage left, and was finding none.

He also knew the drugs would not have taken effect that fast, nor would they have knocked him out. Carson had deliberately chosen a drug that would ease Rodney’s pain and relax him, but not knock him out, going on the theory that if he could get the man to just relax for a moment, mother nature would do the rest and he would go to sleep.

So why was he unconscious on the floor? Anne and a few other nurses arrived, and they swiftly got Rodney moved to the infirmary. Fortunately, the rest of his team was asleep, so at least he didn’t have them hovering.

They ran a series of tests, getting the results back quickly. And, surprisingly, it wasn’t any one thing. It seemed like the shock had temporarily relaxed all his muscles. Add to that the fact that he really had been exhausted and running on fumes—the pain not helping Carson was sure—and it had all come together to knock the man on his arse. Rodney’s poor arse was not having a good week.

His own exhaustion finally hitting him after the adrenaline had woken him up again, Carson ordered the nurses to run an IV, since Rodney’s sugar was a bit low—he probably hadn’t eaten anything except a stray PowerBar for the last few days—so it wouldn’t hurt to try and get him regulated while they had the chance.

He managed to stay awake until they docked with the city, got Rodney settled in the infirmary, and explained to Elizabeth and the others what had happened. They actually seemed amused by the drugging, and Sheppard even joked about setting up a rotating schedule of who got to go next. Carson then instructed his staff to wake him if there were any changes or Rodney woke up, and collapsed into the bed in his office, determined to get a quick nap before all hell broke loose.

***

Rodney came back to his senses as quickly as they left, the colors swirling together until they reformed into the walls of the Atlantis infirmary.

He grunted, not quite remembering how he'd managed to get here. His cheek was pressed flush against the pillow, giving him a limited view of the darkened room.

A tentative voice floated in the air, coming from somewhere south of his head. "Doctor McKay?"

He groaned instead, closing his eyes against the pain thudding in his skull.

"I'll get Doctor Beckett." A swish of fabric and it was silent once again. Drifting on the edges of consciousness, he heard a shuffle of feet against the floor, felt a hand touch his arm.

Carson brushed at the sleeve, trying to rouse him into full consciousness. "Rodney, lad, how are you feeling?"

He forced an eye open, narrowing it slightly as he tried to glare at the man at his bedside. He felt drunk and sore and….wrong. Shifting slightly, he groaned, the only thing he could manage right now.

Carson adjusted the IV, checked his pulse. He gestured for a nurse to bring over a cup of water. "Rodney, your body seems to be in a bit of rebellion. I gave you a painkiller, then you managed to give yourself a wee bit of a shock. All your vitals and tests are coming back clean, so if you can wake up a bit, we can see about getting the IV out and getting you a real dinner."

The thought of anything in his stomach right now just made him nauseous. He groaned again, trying to shift in the bed, managing to shake his head when the straw appeared in his line of sight.

"I know you don't think you want anything, but trust me, getting a little water and some toast in ye should help settle yer stomach." The Scot slurred his words a bit as he spoke, earning a sharp look from the one nurse in view.

"No." He managed to push the word out, wanting to curl up but refusing to give into the urge. Taking another shaky breath he managed a short sentence. "Leave me 'lone."

Carson ran a hand across his eyes. "Rodney, I know how much you din'na like sleeping here and how much you love your mattress. If you can get that wee bit down, I'll have one of my nurses escort you back to your room to sleep. You are suffering from exhaustion; between the injury and the rescue, your body just does'na want to be awake any more. Please. Just for once listen to me without arguing?"

Rodney blinked several times before finding the energy to answer, knowing he had to explain something, but not knowing what to say. His mind was still a jumble. "Unless you want…floor decorated with…toast, leave me alone."

"Rodney..." Carson started to move closer to the bed when a somewhat astonished looked passed across his face. Seconds later, he slowly slid to the floor. Several nurses started yelling and running over, but the doctor was already out cold.

McKay groaned and closed his eyes, curling up a little more on the bed.

***

It was the voices that slowly brought him back. After a few minutes, he realized it was his head nurse, Anne Matthews, and Elizabeth talking.

“…and all their vitals are fine. We can’t physically find anything wrong with either of them. Doctor McKay seems to be a bit worse, but they both have the same symptoms. Mostly it looks like exhaustion, but as far as I know neither of them has ever collapsed like that, even with very little sleep. At least Doctor McKay is awake now. He slept for a few more hours, and while he still refuses to try eating, he is conscious.” Anne sounded worried.

“Keep an eye on them, and keep trying to find out what’s wrong.” Elizabeth sounded tired. Carson thought he should tell her to go rest, but the effort of opening his eyes, much less making any noise, was just too much to contemplate. He heard rustling in the bed next to him, and managed to get one eye open, only to see Rodney McKay staring at him.

“Hmph.” It was all he could manage.

Rodney blinked. Once. Twice. "Welcome to my world."

Carson closed his eye again. He really didn't think he was up to snarking, and Rodney sounded way too happy about that.

"Enjoy the nausea. It's a pip."

Maybe if he ignored him, Carson thought, he would leave him alone. Anne must be truly annoyed with him to put him in the bed right next to the astrophysicist.

"Have I mentioned the gut wrenching cramps?"

Groaning, Carson made a half-hearted attempt to roll over, but didn't manage to do more than rock slightly. "Shut up." Maybe being blunt would work.

"Or maybe the headache where you think your brains are going to spill out on the floor."

"You know," he managed to croak out, "if you had just taken the damn painkillers and gone to bed when I told you to, none of this would have happened."

"Or maybe if you hadn't jabbed me with a syringe full of drugs probably not approved by the FDA I wouldn't have touched those wires and crystals at the same time."

"It was pain killer. You can'na tell me you weren't hurting. I saw it in your eyes. You needed sleep, and you couldn't get it when your ass was aching."

"You saw it in my eyes?" He huffed, blowing out air in one gush. "Should I even mention the drugging someone against his or her will thing?"

"Fine, next time I'll withhold all painkillers and make you writhe on the bed for days on end."

"Maybe this will teach you to actually listen to people when they ask the first time."

"You didn't need them then. Why is it you blather about the world ending when nothing is really wrong, and you refuse all help when you actually need it?"

"And who are you to tell me how my ass is feeling?"

"You were shifting around on your chair when I saw you in the mess, the pain was pretty evident on your face, and your eyes weren't really focusing properly. I think, as a doctor, I can recognize the signs of pain and exhaustion."

"And see," McKay said, and Carson could hear him shifting on the bed, "that brings me right back to my initial thought. If you had just done as I asked hours before—when he got back from the stupid mission—we wouldn't be here now."

Carson cracked an eye again, turning his head to look at the other man. "As I said before, you did'na need them then. You had enough in your system, and anything else would have had adverse effects."

Rodney rolled his eyes, grimacing a little as he moved again. "Not. Your. Ass."

Carson glared out of one eye. "I'm. Your. Doctor."

McKay huffed. "Why do I bother?" He lifted his head enough to turn it on the pillow so it was facing the other way.

"I ask myself the same question every day."

"I'm done. Find yourself another patient."

Carson was glad Rodney was turned away from him, as he was too tired to conceal the pain that had nothing to do with his stomach as it flashed across his face. How had he managed to screw up so badly? With a quiet sigh, he closed his eye again, silently making a mental note to ask Doctor Biro to take over Rodney's care when he saw her again.

***

Rodney sighed when he finally heard Carson's breathing level off. He hated arguing with the man, but for Pete's sake, it wasn't like he was giving him much of a choice in the matter. And he felt horrible. It's not like he could expect him to be chipper about the whole situation.

He pressed the call button and a few minutes later Nurse Matthews walked over, concern on her face, her brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. It looked thousands of times better on her than Kavanaugh.

"Doctor McKay, what can I get you?"

He tried not to whine, but he knew it came out that way. It was the pain. At least that's what he'd say. "Is there any way for me to go back to my quarters?"

"I'm sorry, but until we have a better idea of what's wrong with you, Doctor Biro has ordered that you and Doctor Beckett are to be under constant supervision. Can I get you a cup of water?"

"I want my own bed and peace and quiet. Come on," he said. "I'll ask the control room to leave an open channel to my quarters and the infirmary. I just really need some privacy."

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do."

He shifted, pulling his elbows under him as he lifted his upper body a little so he could see her better. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the other man, but trying to put some force behind his words. "Trust me when I say this, but I think Carson and I would feel a lot better with some distance between us."

She shook her head, and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, but until Doctor Beckett recovers, Doctor Weir has placed Doctor Biro in charge. She gave strict orders, and she won't give in to us nurses or let us off lightly if we go against her wishes. You can take it up with her when she checks on you tomorrow morning, though. Now if there isn't anything else...?" She looked back towards the rest of the infirmary, where the sounds of other patients were faint, but audible.

McKay sighed, dropping his head into the pillow, letting his arms collapse under him. "Can you give me something for the headache?"

She shot him a look of pity. "I'm afraid Doctor Biro has ordered no unnecessary drugs be administered, since we don't know what is wrong or what side effects there may be. Her exact orders were 'If they aren't having convulsions with imminent heart failure, they get nothing.'"

He groaned. "I swear my brains are going to start running out of my nose if I don't get something. Just knock me out so I can sleep. Wake her up if you have to. I'm uncomfortable and getting more so every minute you delay."

She patted him on the arm, turned down the lights, and pulled the sheets up over him, apology on her face. "We'll try to keep it as quiet as possible. Have a nice night, Doctor McKay." With that, she disappeared around a corner.

Glancing back up as her footsteps receded, he shook his head. This was certainly time to take matters into his own hands.

Glancing back to where Carson was lying, he waited a few moments, making sure he was asleep. Seeing no movement other than the rise and fall of the other man's chest, Rodney leaned over and closed the IV line and quickly yanked out the IV from the back of his wrist, hissing at the sharp pain.

Shifting over slightly, he managed to get one leg off the bed and said a prayer to the infirmary god. At least he was in scrub pants. He hated those backless gowns.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and pushed off, managing to get his feet under him without losing his balance. He waited for the room to stop spinning before he moved off, peering around the infirmary to see if anyone was looking.

So far the coast was clear.

The pain didn't really hit until he was at the door to the hallway, but it took his breath away and drove him to his knees.

Damn, he thought, hearing the sound of running feet and exclamations of surprise and dismay. He was so close.

***

Carson awoke to the sound of people giving conflicting orders, yelling about IVs and gurneys and needles. He managed to get both eyes open this time, to be greeted by the sight of a medical team hauling Rodney from a portable gurney to the more permanent bed.

What in the bloody hell was going on?

But before he could ask, Doctor Biro was there, slicing through the noise and giving orders that no one would dare to counter. She had the brusquest bedside manner he had ever seen, but she was competent.

Rodney's loud and heated complaints fell on deaf ears, as she smoothly pulled straps over his arms and legs, and stuck an IV in his arm. "You are obviously delusional if you thought you could leave on your own power, Doctor McKay. Until I am convinced that you are operating under your own will and not that of some alien virus, you will remain strapped to the bed."

"Come on, just let me go. You can't do that! Come on," he said, tugging quite hard on the restraints trapping his limbs. "I'm fine. Just let me go back to my quarters. I'm fine. I need to get out of here. Just let me up."

Carson was impressed she could stay so impassive in the face a full-blown Rodney snit. "No." Then she deliberately turned her back to him, gave a few orders about no drugs and supervision, and left.

The next words were muttered, bordering on hysteria. "Nonononononono. Just let me go."

Rodney turned toward him slightly, eyes slightly glazed, more reflective than they've been earlier. "Nononono. I need to get out of here. Need to get out." He tugged at the restraints again, struggling against them.

Carson sat up, alarmed. The room swam for a moment, then, careful not to repeat Rodney's mistake, he shifted on the bed enough to lay a shaky hand on the man's forehead. "Rodney. It's okay, lad. I'm here. We are going to get through this, I promise." He only hoped it wasn't an empty promise. The med team was working on it but...

"Carson, please."

Closing his eyes, Carson realized that despite his resolve to give Rodney what he had requested, to back off and let another doctor care for him, he couldn't leave his friend like this. It didn't matter than movement made his stomach do flips or his vision go blurry. "Promise me you won't try to leave again. Please. If you do I can take off the restraints. I...Rodney, if you try to leave again, they'll only restrain us both."

"I have to get out of here. Have to get out," Rodney said, repeating the phrase over and over as he tugged and yanked at the bands holding him to the bed.

Carson rang for one of the nurses. Anne appeared a moment later looked a little disheveled, her eyes wide. "Lass, he needs a relaxant, needs to be released from the restraints." He used his best pleading look. She hesitated, since technically he wasn't in charge at the moment. She hesitated. "Look at him," he said, trying to put some force into his words, "does that look okay to you?"

She hesitated a moment longer, before nodding. She left quickly, only to return a few moments later, needle in hand. She injected the contents into Rodney's IV line. He hoped it was something calming.

"It's something you normally prescribe for him," she said, offering a reassuring smile. "I looked earlier."

He watched Rodney for another moment—the man's body twitching and fighting the restraints—before his own body gave out on him and he sank back into the bed. "Tell Doctor Biro I requested that Rodney be allowed to have an isolation room. Being here is obviously distressing him, and we both know that isn't conductive to a good recovery."

Anne nodded, patting his arm before straightening his blankets and moving away on quiet feet.

Carson drifted back to sleep to the sounds of Rodney slowly quieting down. Hopefully things would be better tomorrow.

***

Rodney opened his eyes, rolling his head to the side, blinking slowly as the room came into view, the walls of the infirmary replaced by the high ceiling of isolation room one.

How did he get here?

He felt sluggish, heavy, disconnected, letting his eyes drift closed. His head ached deep inside, more than the worse migraine he'd ever had, but without the shooting pain.

When he went to lift his hand to rub it on his forehead, though, he discovered his arms were tired to the bed and he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Lifting his head, his eyes now wide, watering against the pain, he spied the cuffs on his ankles as well and he could feel the panic rising.

Glancing around the empty room, his breath started to come in gasps. Why was he here? What happened? Why was he like this?

He could hear words, but he couldn't grasp them, couldn't comprehend what they were telling him. All he could think of was Offoffoffoffoffoff!

He could feel hands on his arms, touching him, holding him down as he tried to move, to get away, but he couldn't.

One voice, though, finally got through.

"Rodney! Rodney, snap out of it!" John Sheppard's voice was rough, commanding, and soothing, all at the same time.

He stopped, waiting, refusing to open his eyes. What if he was imaging it? His muscles were tense under the hands, the pressure on his limbs constant.

"Rodney, listen to me. Open your eyes. You have to snap out of it."

Nononononono. Where was Carson? Why was Sheppard here?

"Carson is still in the infirmary, Rodney, you asked to be moved away from him. I'm here to help. Listen to me, Rodney. Open your eyes."

Wrenching his eyes open, he found himself with a face-full of John Sheppard, hazel eyes filled with worry, hands holding down his right side while Nurse Matthews had his left. "Sheppard?" he whispered.

"I'm here. It's okay. You were having some sort of panic attack. It's going to be okay."

Rodney took a shaky breath, trying to convince his muscles to relax, but they weren't listening. "What happened?" he asked, his voice weaker than he liked. He felt wrung out and wired at the same time.

"We don't know. You spaced out last night, tried to make a break for it. They had to strap you down, and then I guess you convinced Carson to have them move you here." John motioned for someone to come over, and Doctor Biro appeared in view. "Doctor, what the hell is going on here?"

Rodney shifted his gaze to the doctor, but he kept glancing back toward the Colonel as if he was going to disappear.

"We're not sure. Doctor Beckett, while experiencing some of the same symptoms initially, is improving quickly with rest." She paused, trying to put a smile on her face, but McKay knew she was just trying to be nice. "We're still trying to sort things out."

"Sort faster." Sheppard growled. "I didn't just recover one of my team members from death at the hands of the Wraith to have another one down from some sort of mental virus."

Mental virus? He didn't like the sound of that. Sheppard glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised. Had he said that out loud?

"We are going to figure this out. Rodney, can you remember anything unusual, anything that might have happened to you and Carson before you collapsed?"

"Collapsed?"

Sheppard looked at him carefully. "Yes, when you collapsed. After Carson gave you the painkillers, you collapsed. Anything happen before that? Were you playing with any strange alien devices or anything?"

He glanced up, narrowing his eyes, his tone edging down into dangerous territory. "I never play with anything. I work on things—very carefully and methodically."

The Colonel grinned. "Now that sounds more like my McKay. Okay, so were you carefully and methodically working on anything that might have decided messing with you and Beckett sounded like a fun time?"

He tugged at the restraints again. "I need to finish. It's important."

The grin faded, to be replaced by a confused look. "Finish what?"

"What I was working on. It's important. We need it. Let me go. I need to go."

"Rodney," Sheppard drew the word out. "What were you working on?"

"Nonononono. You don't understand. It's vital. I have to go." He pulled at the restraints holding him to the bed. "Let me go. I need to finish it."

"Rodney!" Sheppard's voice had the crack of command in it. "Don't slip away again. Focus! What were you working on?"

"I. Have. To. Go. Let me go! I have to get out of here. Have to get out." The words flew from his mouth, faster and faster, as he begged and pleaded with them to listen to him, to let him finish what he'd started.

The Colonel was pushed away by Doctor Biro, who shot something into his IV line. Even though Sheppard wasn't next to the bed, he continued to talk, low, soothing, the same tone he had used to bring Rodney back before. "Listen to me, it's the mental virus thing talking here, McKay. Fight it. Don't let it take over. Deep breaths. Let the drugs work, let them help you fight it."

He shook his head from side to side, his muscles finally relaxing into the bed as everything slowed down, his last words begging them to let him finish.

***

Carson was on his back, staring at the ceiling. He did his best to ignore the cramping and occasional spasms. They were more of an inconvenience than anything else.

How had he managed to screw up so badly? Firs the debacle with the Hoffans, then the whole Michael incident, and now he had lost Rodney’s trust. No matter how he tried to squirm and evade responsibility, it all kept coming back to one thing.

He wasn’t fit to be CMO of Atlantis, much less even a doctor here.

He heard noises coming from the isolation area, people rushing over there, and he wondered what was going on. He hoped Rodney was happier there, away from him, away from being forced to look at someone you hated.

After a while, he saw Doctor Biro starting to walk across the room. He had seen Colonel Sheppard go in earlier, so Carson assumed he was still with Rodney. It hurt, a little, that everyone was so very concerned about Rodney, and not one person had stopped to see how he was doing. He knew Rodney was worse off than he was, but would it kill them to stop by and see how he was doing too? It just reinforced that he really wasn’t doing much good here. Someone else could do much better.

He raised a shaky hand and managed to catch Doctor Biro’s attention, waving her over. “How is Rodney doing? Is he okay?” He couldn’t help it.

Biro paused beside the bed, her hand instinctively reaching for his wrist. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before she answered. "I honestly don't know."

It was odd to have someone checking his pulse, odd to see his own habits in someone else. "You don't know?" He sat up a little straighter, or tried to anyway. "What happened?"

She shook her head, stepping back a pace. "He's not…all there. Once we get him calm again we need to get him under the scanner and take a look at his brain function, but…" She sighed, her gaze dropping. "He's insistent he has to finish something that he has to get out of the infirmary. I just can't keep sedating him, but he's too agitated otherwise."

He felt his eyes widen. "What do you mean not all there? What is he doing? What does he need to finish?" Request for another doctor be damned, Rodney was a friend, and he wanted to help if nothing else. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Sometimes it sounds like Doctor McKay, but other times…he's not making a lot of sense." She glanced toward the nearly depleted IV bag. "And as for you, no, there's nothing you can do except rest and get back on your feet. Are you feeling any better?"

He let his body fall back into the bedding. That was really the crux of it, wasn't it? He really wasn't needed. "Aye, fine. Can you let me know if there is any change in his condition?"

She nodded, narrowing her eyes. "And you still didn't answer my question."

"Question? Which one was that, lass?" He slid his eyes to his lap, where his hands were tightly clenched together to hide the fact that they were still shaking slightly.

Her tone was clipped. "How are you feeling? It's not a difficult one to answer."

"Oh. Ah, better. Much, thanks." He didn't raise his eyes. She had more important things to do than worry about a few stomach cramps and muscle spasms.

Her eyebrow rose, her voice hard. "Try again."

He steeled himself, forcing a light smile onto his face as he glanced up. "Really, I'm feeling much better. Let me know if Rodney changes, okay?"

"Doctor," she said, pausing after the first word for a moment. "Whatever's happening to Doctor McKay obviously has some ties with your collapse. I need to know exactly what symptoms you are experiencing so I can treat him."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the questions. He knew, intellectually, that she was right, but at the same time, he just wanted to be left alone at this point. "It was pretty much the same as Rodney's original symptoms, stomach cramps, and shakiness. I'm feeling better though." He hoped she didn't notice that his knuckles were white from the effort of holding his hands still.

She looked at him for nearly a minute before nodding once, briskly. "You'll let me know immediately if it changes?"

"Aye. I think I'll just get some sleep now. Goodness knows I need to catch up." He managed to look up and give her another smile he hoped was reassuring and relaxed.

Biro nodded again, fussing with the IV line before finally walking away.

Thank God. He didn't want to think about what was going on. In the back of his head, from what she had told him...what if he had pushed Rodney into some sort of mental collapse? What if the drug he had given him, meant to help, had done just the opposite? This was all his fault.

He turned over, intending to get some sleep, or at least make everyone think he was sleeping. Before he could get comfortable, however, he heard Colonel Sheppard come out of the isolation room, giving orders to nurses to find out what the hell was wrong.

He heard the man's voice getting closer, heading his way. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping he would move on. Carson wasn't in the mood for conversation. Footsteps stopped next to his bed, and he silently begged the Colonel to just go away.

"I know you're awake, so you can stop pretending not to be."

He felt his hand twitch, but quickly forced it still, eyes still closed, still silent.

"Being the stubborn Scot, are you? Well, then," he said, a scrape of the bedside chair against the floor filling in the pause. "I might as well tell you what's going on down the hall if you haven't been able to hear the ruckus."

Carson debated staying quiet, but he really did want to know what was going on. He gave up and opened one eye. "How is Rodney?"

Sheppard looked…haggard. Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, he offered a slight smile, no more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Not good."

Opening his other eye, Carson leveraged himself up a bit. "Doctor Biro is the best. I'm sure she'll figure it out."

Sheppard shook his head, obviously not convinced. "I know she's a good doctor, but she's way out of her depth."

"She's the best we have," Carson repeated. "If anyone can get Rodney back to normal, it will be her."

"No. Our best is sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself."

Carson shot him a startled look, and then looked down. Uncomfortable with the statement, he decided to try and change the topic. "How is Ronon doing? Anne told me he was released to his own quarters this morning, and is on light duty until his wounds all get healed up."

"He's sitting with Rodney right now, actually."

"Ah." He didn't know what else to say.

"You know Anne overheard you last night."

"O-overheard? What do you mean?"

Sheppard tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Apparently Ronon heard too. You weren't exactly quiet." He paused. "What the hell is going on with the two of you? Anne mentioned something about a Marine, too."

"Nothing." It was out quickly, the word practically tumbling out of his mouth. "Look, Colonel, I really am tired. Can we do this later?" He started to bring his hand to his face to run it across his eyes, but aborted and put it in his lap when he remembered the shaking.

"Fine." The word was sharp. "Rodney very well might be losing his mind and you're tired. I'll be talking to Doctor Biro trying to figure out a way to get my friend back. Have a nice nap."

Stung, Carson couldn't stop the choke from getting out. "I'm sorry. I just... I... What if it is my fault?" He stopped, clamping his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Your fault?" Sheppard took a deep breath before he continued. "Again I have to ask: what the hell is going on?"

Sighing, Carson realized he had to come clean. He had told them about the painkillers and how he had given them to Rodney, but not about the fight that led to the drastic measures.

"He was in pain, but was refusing anything, refusing to sleep and I knew he needed it. We argued about it, and I tried to order him to the infirmary. But, you know Rodney. He refused and went off to sulk. I had hoped he would come around, but after a while I, well, you know. I medicated him and then he collapsed." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "It's my fault. Whatever is wrong, I did it to him."

"What did you give him? Something different than normal?"

"No, the same thing I had given him earlier. But that's no excuse. I should have... I don't know. I was tired, I wasn't thinking straight. At first I thought it was just the shock, I felt it, a spark, so I know it hit him harder when that thing he was fiddling with did whatever it did." He raised is hand again, this time letting it rest across his eyes, hiding him from Sheppard, from the accusation he knew had to be there. "It was my fault."

"What spark?"

"The spark, from the Ancient gizmo he was playing with. It shocked him right before he fell. I had my hand on him, so I felt a bit of a shock, like when you touch something metal on a cold day."

"Damn, Beckett. Why didn't you say that before?" A rustle of fabric and the squawk of the chair against the floor punctuated his question. "Sheppard to Zelenka. Doc, what was Rodney working on?"

At his words, Carson felt a flutter of panic. No, no one should touch that. His stomach cramped up, and his hands started to shake more. "Colonel! No, ah, you should leave it alone."

"What? What the—" He broke off, the next words decidedly louder. "Doctor Biro! It's Beckett!" A warm, dry hand grabbed his arm. "Oh, don't you do this to me too. One was enough."

He curled into a ball, trying to stop his body from the spasms that were swiftly getting worse. "Please, just promise, don't mess with it. It isn't ready yet, it has to be completed first." Carson didn't know where the words were coming from, but he couldn't stop them.

"We won't mess with anything, trust me. We need to know what it is, what Rodney was working on."

At his words, the shudders stopped, but the flutters of panic were still there, hovering around the edges of his awareness. As the attack stopped, he heard people running towards him. Then he slipped into blessed darkness.

***

Waking with a start, his eyes snapped open, his heart beating solidly in his chest.

He wasn't dead?

Glancing around the room, he recognized where he was, but not all the equipment surrounding him. Most of it was strange, primitive, alien. Two people were near the bed, both turned away.

Trying to roll over, his discovered his buttock was strangely sore and his hands and legs were fastened to the bed he was lying upon. Giving the restraint a light tug, he realized it was secure.

His movement must have alerted someone because a moment later a very hairy man was hovering over him.

"McKay."

He narrowed his eyes, asking the first and more important question that came to mind. "What happened?"

"You and Beckett went nuts."

That wasn't the answer he was looking for. Glancing away, he absently gripped the railing of the bed. "Why am I in here?"

"You asked to be alone. So we put you here."

"I did?" His eyes were fixed on the device in the corner, surprised to see it completely inactive. "Why is the isolation unit not on?"

The hairy man's eyebrow rose and he answered the first question, ignoring his second. "You just wanted a private suite."

He turned back to the man beside the bed, noticing another woman behind him. "You're not the doctor."

The woman stepped forward, making it easier for him to see her without straining his neck. "I'm Doctor Biro, with Doctor Beckett also incapacitated, I'm in charge of the infirmary." She grabbed his wrist tightly, obviously taking his pulse.

He wanted to pull his hand back, but couldn't. He frowned instead. "Who are you?"

She shot him a look filled with both annoyance and pity. "As I said, I'm Doctor Biro. I'm treating you. In fact, Doctor Beckett has asked me to take over all of your care, per your request as I understand it." She raised an eyebrow at him and released his wrist, making a few notes in a chart at the end of the bed.

"But what happened to Doctor Carna?"

At his question, both of her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me, who? There is no one on the expedition by that name."

"Of course, there is," he huffed, not liking this conversation at all. "She's Janus' wife. I'm sure you know her if you are actually a doctor—which I have severe doubts about currently."

An uneasy look passed across her features. "Ronon, would you mind getting Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard?" Getting a nod, she turned her attention back to him. "Doctor McKay, can you tell me what you last remember happening?"

"Excuse me?"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

He huffed, shaking his head. "If you must know, I was working in my lab."

"Which lab do you remember working in?"

He sighed again, wishing this woman would go away. Maybe if he could convince Atlantis there was an emergency somewhere else… He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate, but just as he expected, the isolation room was still kept separate from the main Atlantis systems. "My lab."

Another uneasy look passed across her face. "And before that?"

"Why do you require this information? And," he said, glaring at her, "I don't appreciate your tone of voice or these inane inquiries."

Her own eyes narrowed. "If you have any desire to leave this room any time soon, or even have the restraints removed, I'm afraid you are going to have to answer all my questions, Doctor McKay."

He glanced around again, confusion on his face. "Why do you insist on calling me that…name?"

Her face lost all expression. "That is your name. Doctor Rodney McKay, chief science officer for the Atlantis expedition."

"Expedition? What expedition?" His voice began to rise as he tugged harder at his bonds. "Nigel has been running the science divisions of Atlantis since the last attack when Sidra was killed. Who is this McKay?"

"Rodney." Her voice was quiet, concerned. "You are Rodney McKay. You just returned for a mission to rescue your teammate, Ronon Dex, from the Wraith, who had re-captured him and turned him back into a Runner. Along with managing the science department, you are on Colonel John Sheppard's off-world team. On the way back to Atlantis on the Daedalus, you collapsed and have been having psychotic fits."

"Nononononono," he said, shaking his head, his breath starting to come fast and hard. He pushed the words out even as his body began to shake. "I was working off-world, on Doranda, where my lab is. Talk to Nigel. He'll know me."

She placed a hand lightly on his arm. "Take deep breaths. Doranda was destroyed several months ago when you and Colonel Sheppard couldn't get the weapon to work. There is no one here named Nigel. The only name I recognized was Janus, and only because we know he was the Ancient who rigged the failsafe to allow Atlantis to rise from the ocean when we arrived."

"But Atlantis has not fallen to the Wraith. Nonononono. It couldn’t have. We're almost there. We're going to win. We have to," his eyes widened. He could hear the shuffle of clothing and feet hear the entrance to the room, but he ignored it, fixing his attention on the woman before him. "I have to get back to work. Let me go. It's imperative that I finish."

She looked momentarily confused. "No, Atlantis has not fallen to the Wraith. You and Doctor Zelenka managed to rig the shield to act as a cloak when they attacked, making them think the city was destroyed." She looked back at the people who had walked in, then back to him.

His eyes widened at her words. "You can't do that. It was never designed for that."

"Yes," she drew the word out. "You said at the time that it could not be sustained for long. Which is why we used the nuclear weapon to make them believe we had destroyed the city. You, yourself, told us we could sustain it as a cloak for five minutes before the drain on the ZPM would become critical."

"Nuclear? Why would I use such a primitive device to do this thing that you say?" He shook his head, his eyes finally sliding to those who'd entered, widening when he recognized one of them. "You. How? Janus said…"

Something was wrong. He could feel his body shaking, harder now, his heart pounding in his chest. Nononononono. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

"Rodney" The woman walked over to the bed. She put a hand on his other arm. "Calm down, Rodney. It's okay, you are safe in Atlantis."

"Durand!" He finally managed to say, the room spinning around him. "My name's Durand."

He could hear them yelling at him, but it was too much and he finally slumped against the bed, their voices chasing him into darkness.

***

Carson woke up to a darkened, quiet room. He tried to pull his arm up to scratch his face, only to find he couldn’t. Looking down, he felt panic begin to rise when he saw the restraints. He jumped when a cool hand touched his forehead.

“Doctor Beckett? It’s Anne. We had to restrain you as a precaution.”

“Precaution? Against what?” He tugged at the bonds, knowing even as he did that there was no way he would get out of them unless someone let him out.

“You had an attack similar to Doctor McKay’s.” Her look was soft, concerned. “Doctor Biro and Colonel Sheppard thought it would be best to bring you here and restrain you, just in case.” The hand left his forehead and she moved to the door. “It’s late evening, so try to get some sleep.”

Another rustle and he turned his head the other direction. Only to be caught in Rodney McKay’s gaze. “Rodney? How are you feeling lad?”

He blinked at him a few times before replying. "Is there an epidemic?"

Carson felt his head furrow at the question. He was a little fuzzy as to what had happened. Although not very eloquent, the best he could do was, "What?"

Rodney tried to gesture with his hand, but bring similarly restrained it didn't get very far. "You. Me. Are there others too? Are the rest of the isolation rooms already full that they had to put you in here?"

"Noooo." He drew the word out, trying to remember what had happened. "You...collapsed. We brought you here and you asked to be isolated. I...they say I have the same thing, similar symptoms. But..."

It wasn't a virus. It was—

"Device. There was a device involved." His stomach clenched at the thought, but it was all coming back to him.

Rodney's reply was instant. Sharp. Hard. "What do know about it?"

The question made sweat bead on Carson's forehead, his hands starting to shake again. "I...can we talk about something else?"

"I have to know. What do you know? How did you find out?"

"Please!" He curled around himself as much as he could in the restraints. He couldn't talk about it! The panic, it was coming back. "Please don't!" He sobbed.

Rodney was insistent, his words edged with his own panic. "You can't know. You shouldn't know. No one does."

Carson whimpered. He tried to suck in a breath, to force the panic back. "Rodney, what's happening to us? What's happening?" He heard the note of desperation in his own voice and couldn't stop it.

"You can't know! I have to get out of here. Have to—" His words cut off.

"Rodney..." Carson trailed off. "What is it?" He managed to say it quietly. "What is it supposed to do? Why is it doing this to us?"

A strangled moan was his only response.

Carson closed his eyes, fighting to somehow regain control, even as he heard feet rushing in, people talking. He kept them squeezed tightly shut, even as his vitals were checked, the sound of Rodney's moaning and the calm voices of the nurses more than he could process.

***

Even before he was fully awake and aware, Durand knew he was drugged. His limbs, while still strapped to the bed, were heavy. His body ached, every muscle sore but feeling as it they were wrapped with cloth. His mind was much slower than he was accustomed to, every thought dragged to the surface with considerable effort.

What was happening? What was wrong with him?

He could hear movement all around him: the shuffling of feet, and soft swish of fabric-covered limbs and bodies. Several subdued voices argued at the far end of the room, while the soft, regular breathing of his fellow patient indicated that he, at least, was slumbering.

Managing to roll his head to the side, he forced his eyes to open. Even though the light was low, his eyes began to tear. Blinking rapidly, willing his eyes to adjust he focused on the man lying on the bed beside him.

He should know him, but yet, he was completely unfamiliar—as was everyone else he'd since encountered. Except for her.

He remembered reading Janus' report the other day, speaking of a woman who had arrived suddenly, claiming to be from the future. Was that even possible? Janus insisted it was, but he was one among many.

Another woman approached with a small smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes drifted away from her face down to where her fingers grasped his wrist, her touch firm and sure. Much like Carna's.

He must have been silent too long, because her smile quickly turned to a frown. "You're…" he began, trying to drag the memory to the surface. She had told him her name. "You're the doctor."

"Yes," she said, her voice careful.

The name he was looking for crested to the surface. He grabbed at it before it slid back under. "Biro," he said. "Doctor Biro."

"Yes. I'm glad you remember that. How are you feeling?"

"Drugged." He paused again, shifting a little on the mattress. "Why?"

"Yes, and I apologize for that, but you had a small seizure before and we thought it would be best to give you something to prevent that from happening again. If we can cut back on the amount we will, but we were…worried."

Seizures. That explained his soreness, the worn out feeling in his muscles.

"Do you think you're up for a visitor?"

He frowned in confusion, but nodded slowly. "I…think so."

Doctor Biro patted his arm and gestured for someone to approach. Another man stepped into view, his hair in disarray, his hands already moving nervously through the air.

"He is awake, yes?" The man turned to Durand. "What Ancient device were you messing with? As usual, I must fill in and fix you, so you can fix Atlantis."

"Ancient device?" He thought hard. The only project he was working on was classified and on the cutting edge of their science, nothing old. "I know of no…device. Nigel should be able to tell you which old systems need repair."

"Yes, yes, you think you are Ancient scientist, this they tell me." The man ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more. "I have diagrams of three devices found on Daedalus. Which one were you working on?" He swiftly put three sets of diagrams on Durand's lap, then looked intently at him.

Narrowing his eyes, he managed to turn his head, focusing on the items strewn across his lap. He moved to reach for the top sheet, but his arm wouldn't budge. "I…" he began, sending a confused expression at his unresponsive wrist.

"We shall call them A, B, and C, no?" Pushing his glasses up his nose, the man pointed to each of the diagrams, giving them letters. "Which one—" He suddenly stopped, and adopted a listening pose. He then reached up to tap a small device in his ear. "I am busy at the moment fixing Rodney. Water distillation plant can wait. Unless it is blowing up, do not call again." He muttered a few things in a strange language, before turning back to the bed.

"Now, which one? Kavanaugh seeks to blow us all up, and I do not have patience to stop him. Your job I do not want."

"Can't…have it," he managed to say, completely overwhelmed by the small man who'd appropriated a chair. "Can I…" he paused, looking for the word. "…hold…look closer?"

A sharp gaze pierced him for a moment, then the man reached over and moved the papers within reach, even with the restraints still in place. "If you damage, I will not sit by and let you yell later for irresponsibility."

Fingering the top page, Durand squinted at the diagrams, trying to raise himself to get a closer look. Even though the back of the bed was raised slightly, it was more reclined than upright, which made it even more difficult. After a minute of struggling, he leaned back again, closing his eyes briefly. "I can't…this way."

"Gah! Look like Rodney you may, but him you are not. Arm waving and yelling far better than whining." He leaned over and roughly moved the bed forward, into a sitting position, earning a sharp look from the doctor still standing in the corner observing. "There, no more excuses now."

Durand glanced at the man, his forehead furrowing. "Thank you."

Making a phft noise, the man rolled his eyes. "Now I know you are not yourself. Cutting sarcasm, yes. Biting remarks, yes. Apologies, never. Now, which one did you activate so I may fix you? While timid Rodney is quieter, Colonel Sheppard will have science department for breakfast if we do not rectify situation."

"Activate?" Durand shook his head. "Nothing was ready for…activation. Still several days away. Wraith are coming. We have to be ready."

He left his eyes drift to the page in his hands, recognizing the device on the sheet. "This is a replacement part for…" He paused, trying to drag the information out of his mind. "…the long ranger scanners. Was supposed to fix the error messages we were receiving."

The man's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "Long range scanners?" He snatched the sheet out of Durand's hands. "We found work-arounds for errors, but cannot scan as far as we would like. What part will this replace? How hard to do repairs?" A throat cleared in the background made the man turn around for a moment, then visibly gathered himself. "Ah, yes, well, we can deal with the scanners later. What about the other two? And what was device supposed to do? That will help."

"Easy fix," Durand said, still on the first part of the man's rushed words. "Main console, the part just…under the crystal control unit."

He whipped out a small notebook and pencil, easily distracted by the scanner. "Here," he sketched for a moment, then turned the paper around to show a rough drawing of the scanner. "Show me." Another cough, louder this time, was waved off. "Yes, yes, Doctor Biro, I am well aware of problem. I will return to fixing Rodney momentarily."

Durand reached forward, managing to snag the writing implement, but realizing that any real work was going to be difficult. "Can we…" He tugged at the restraint fastened around his wrist. "I can't work like this."

The man sighed. "I was told that should I release you, even for good cause, Colonel Sheppard will use me for a punching bag. I like nose where it is, so I cannot undo restraints. However, perhaps if I bring devices here, you can show me, yes? Point out what you were working on, and how to fix it? Scanners, as much as I would like to talk about them, must take second priority."

"Nonononono. My work must remain in my lab. Shielded. Classified. Scanners I can fix now." Durand tugged again. "Please. Place a guard if you are worried. I can help you."

"Lab on Doranda no longer exists. The device has been in the workshop for weeks, with rest of things we do not know how to work yet or have a function for." He hesitated for a moment. "Hard I know this is, however, you are not Ancient scientist. You are Rodney McKay, and the world you think you knew no longer exists." There was a great deal of compassion in his eyes. "Your help I would gladly take, if it did not mean giving up my friend and colleague. If you will help me with the device, I will bring notes and paper for you to work and ask for restraints to be loosened or removed. Deal?"

"Gone?" Durand stared at the man, feeling his mouth drop open. "We were only a day away from testing. We were certain of success."

He shook his head, his voice gentle. "From what we have found in the database, the order was given to evacuate Atlantis back to Earth, after it was sunk to bottom of ocean. There it stayed until we arrived three years ago and raised it. We are the second evolution of Ancient race, after they ascended."

"No," he whispered, the voices of his friends still ringing in his ears. They couldn't be gone. "No…"

A firm hand grabbed his, the grip strong, the eyes above it understanding. "From what we know, Doranda was evacuated, all scientists making it to Earth. How you remain behind, how you come to inhabit Rodney's body, however, this I do not know. Your device, it was meant to do something with consciousness perhaps? Or time travel?"

"No evacuation order was given," Durand replied, too shocked to edit himself, to hold back. "The Arcturus project was a success. Only a few more modifications were needed until it would finally be ready after years of work. I was finishing the remote access device for the commander of the Athanasius—one of the ships fighting the Hives that were approaching Doranda. The remote would imprint on the user, enabling him to use it from a long distance. Once we test fired it successfully, we planned to build several others."

He shook his head, his gaze focused somewhere past the man beside the bed. "The last I remember…I was in my lab working, trying to finish. There was a report of a Hive and troops on the ground, but it was unconfirmed. I was working. I had to finish. They were relying on me."

Durand stopped, pulling in a shaky breath, seeing his shock reflected in the eyes of the man at his bedside. "Something's wrong, I can feel it even with the drugs. What's happening?"

The man's eyes were thoughtful for a moment. "The Arcturus project, it did not work. We found evidence that something went wrong during the test firing, but then no further notes were—" He broke off, looking sharply at Durand. "This device, how does it imprint? It stores personality of user perhaps? As to what is wrong..." Another long look, then he went over to the doctor, conferring with her for a moment. When he returned, he held a small mirror. "You are not Durand, my friend."

Durand's eyes went wide, focusing on the face reflected back at him. "Nonononono," he said, pulling his eyes away. "No. That can't happen. You're tricking me. You have to be."

He tugged at the restraints, desperation in his movements, but his limbs, his body wasn't reacting like it should have, slowed considerably due to the drugs in his system. "I have to get back to work. Let me go. I have to go." He took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the catch in his voice and the lump stuck in his throat. "Please," he begged. "Just let me go back. I have to finish."

There was a sharp slap across his face. "You may panic later, when not so much is at stake. If you truly are a scientist and wish to use your knowledge to help others, you will cease denying and begin helping."

Eyes wide, his breath caught and he slumped back into the mattress, his mind spiraling out of control while another voice finally rose to the surface, a scream erupting from his mouth.

"Get him out! Get him out! Get him out!"

The final look the scientist shot him before he turned to leave was mixed. Scorn, pity, compassion, frustration, were all there. "I will return in a few hours with devices. You will calm down and help then." Then he turned and walked out the door.

Rodney tugged at the restraints, not understanding how he'd gotten there, but knew something was very wrong. "Radek!" He yelled, his body shaking.

Radek paused, almost out of the room, and turned slowly. "You are Rodney now? Not Durand?"

He nearly sobbed in relief when the Czech paced back a few steps. He'd heard him. He wasn't imaging it. "Get him out. Oh, God, get him out."

"We will get him out. You must stay sane and convince him to help if you can. Until then, what information do you have? What device were you working on? He is refusing to tell us, and both you and Doctor Beckett have convulsions when we ask." Radek had returned to the bedside, his gaze intense.

"Wha.." Carson stirred in the next bed. "What's happening?"

Biro appeared on the other side of the bed, leaning over. "Doctor McKay?"

Body shaking, his gaze leapt from one to the other. "Please tell me this is a dream. A really, really bad dream," he muttered, wanted to just close his eyes and make everything change back to normal.

"Not dream. Just a really bad sci-fi movie. Now, which device? Why does everyone avoid this question today?" Radek rolled his eyes.

He shook his head. "Not big..." he said, closing his eyes to try and picture it. "Smaller than a ZedPM. Same shape. Were control crystals inside."

Rodney opened his eyes, turning his head to Biro. "Make him go away. He keeps talking, pushing me away, pushing me into the dark."

"Doctor Zelenka?"

"No. Him."

"Durand?"

Rodney nodded, but he could already feel himself slipping. "I can't go back in there. I can't." He turned to Radek. "I touched something inside. It jolted me. Everything's fuzzy since then. It wasn't Carson's fault. He just startled me. Just get him out of me."

Carson sat up. “Him? Him who? What the bloody hell is going on?”

Zelenka ignored the doctor for the moment. “He pushes you aside? You are both occupying same space, you know what he is saying and doing, even when you are not in charge? Can you access his memories, tell us what this device is supposed to do?” He pulled out the diagram of the device Rodney had described, shoving it in his face. “It is this one?”

"I know he's there, but I can't move past him. He smothers me. I’m trapped. Feel…trapped." Rodney could feel the pull stronger now, his eyes beginning to lose focus.

“Rodney! Hang on a little longer!” Radek began swearing in Czech. He took Rodney by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. “You are genius! Find way to fight him!”

"Tired," Rodney mumbled, feeling Biro grab his wrist, feeling the pull of the drugs in his system and the stronger pull of something else, the thick darkness beginning to blot out the isolation room. "Sorry…" he said, the word trailing off as he slid, the world around him vanishing once again.

***

Carson drifted, feeling a bit dreamy. He knew this feeling. It was a drug they used to calm patients who were a bit unruly. They had told him about Rodney, about Durand. They had given him the drug after that, when he had started to panic again.

At least now he knew it wasn’t him. With the edges of his emotions dulled, he found he could think. It wasn’t easy, but at least his thoughts were mostly his own. A glance over at Rodney’s bed showed the physicist was still out cold, on far more powerful drugs than Carson himself.

He heard a noise and looked up, not really surprised to see Colonel Sheppard and Radek advancing on him, an Ancient device cradled in Radek’s arms. They surrounded the bed, standing on either side of him.

Sheppard crossed his arms, leaning a hip against the side of the bed. "You going to freak on us?"

He thought about it for a moment, staring off into space. "I...I din'na think so. Not right now."

"Good," Radek said, shoving the device into his lap. "Is this what Rodney was working on when you found him?"

Carson stared at the device for a while, trying to force himself to remember. "Yes." He drew the word out. "I, his hands, I remember he had his hand in it. When he pulled it out, there was a spark. I felt it, like a shock." He trailed off, his mind wandering.

"Good, good," Radek said, shifting the device a little so he could open the side of it. "You said he was working inside here?"

"Mmmmmmm" Radek's hair was really wild. Wondering if it was that way on purpose, he reached out to pat the man on the head, a little astonished when his arm stopped half-way.

"Carson?" Sheppard asked, pulling his attention. "Was that the only thing Rodney was working on? There was a bunch of stuff in the lab."

John had nice hair too... Carson tried to force himself to concentrate. This was why he hated drugs. "No. I. He…that was what he was working on. But we were both tired. He was so tired he could barely walk straight."

The man awkwardly patted his arm, offering a hesitant smile. "I know, Doc. It was one of those missions. Are you sure there was nothing else? From what we've been able to find out from the database, Durand was working on a lot of different projects. All of them dangerous, deadly, and not…quite…legitimate."

He closed his eyes, hoping to drown out the distracting hair all around him. "There were other things there. Rodney had his back was to me when I walked in. But when I got close, I saw, he only had the one thing near him. He was poking it, inside it. At the crystals."

"That will help," Radek said, lifting the device from his lap. "If only Rodney were so helpful."

"Scared." He opened his eyes, trying to make them understand. "He, the other, he's scared, panic. I, that's what I keep getting edges of. He's scared." Carson shuddered, even through the haze of drugs, he could feel the rogue emotions fluttering. At least he knew they weren't his.

"Of what? What is he scared about?" Sheppard asked, his tone urgent. "We have to figure it out before he gets much weaker."

He took deep breaths, trying to separate himself from Durand. "I don't know, lad. All I'm getting are emotions, no thoughts, no memories." He wanted to bury his head in his hands, tugged at the restraints a bit. Even with the drugs, he was starting to have a hard time separating himself from the outside influences. He needed something to ground him, to keep him here, remind him what was him and what wasn't. "Colonel..."

Sheppard leaned closer, concern on his face, a tentative hand resting on Carson's shoulder. "What?"

He tried to reach up, to grab Shepaprd's hand, wanting the physical anchor, and choked back a sob when his arm was jerked back again. He took several deep breaths, trying to focus and block out everything else. "Something... I'm not sure, but I think something was wrong. It isn't just fear, it's…" he paused, drawing in another shaky breath. "It's terror."

John's forehead creased in confusion, but his hand slid down to grab Carson's, hesitant at first. "From what? Can you be any more specific?"

Grateful, Carson squeezed, afraid to let go, finding it easier to concentrate when he had something to help him distinguish between reality and everything else. "I can only guess, since Rodney seems to have gotten the actual personality. Death, maybe. It's almost like the kind of emotion I would imagine comes with dying, or knowing you’re going to die." He pointed at the device Radek was holding. "It centers around that thing, something it was doing or about to do."

"It causes death? Is that what you're saying?"

"It…I don't know. I only know that every time I think about it or see it, I can feel the panic, feel the terror."

"Colonel," Radek said, his voice thoughtful. "Were you able to get any details about why the project wasn't completed?"

"Not much, no. It was one in a long list of things that went wrong during the whole Arcturus project. Why?"

"Nothing specific?"

"No. It never worked right."

"Durand mentioned that there were Wraith troops on the ground when he was working, that there was a hive possibly already at Doranda," Zelenka said. "We know this device is supposed to imprint on the user. What if he was killed while working on it? With the ATA gene, it might have been possible for him to have made a death imprint"

"So I'm feeling his death? Not just his fear of death?" Carson was pretty sure he was about to throw up, could feel his face draining of blood.

"It could explain his sense of urgency and the…terror." Radek suggested, glancing over to the Colonel. "What if this entire project was resting on this one scientist? That he had to complete this piece or else everything else would fall as well?"

Carson couldn't stop shaking. Death. He was feeling death. He was aware that he was probably squeezing the Colonel's hand right off, but he needed that connection. "I think I'm going to be sick..."

"Hang on, Doc," Sheppard said before he turned to yell over his shoulder, his hand never leaving Carson's. "Biro!"

"Trying. I just... I don't... Please, make it stop?"

"Beckett," John said leaning in, his free hand turning his face. "Concentrate on me. You're here. You're safe. You're alive."

"...don't want to die. Know it's not me, but can't stop it... Please..."

"Look at me." John's voice was loud, commanding.

Carson shook his head, unable to raise his eyes, afraid, despite himself, that if he did all he would see is death.

"Open your eyes. Look at me." Sheppard ordered. "Zelenka, grab his other hand."

Slowly, he opened his eyes, focusing first on the hands gripping his own, although he still couldn't stop the shaking, or go further than that. "Want to, but I... John... Radek..." He was losing himself, the emotions threatening to take him, even with the drugs. Knowing it was death, knowing what the device had done, it was too much.

"Don't you dare give up, Beckett. What would your mum think of that?"

He jerked slightly, finally raising his eyes enough to look the Colonel in the face. "She...she'd call me a sheep, like Rodney...He'd like mum..."

"And you don't want me calling her now, do you?" John raised an eyebrow, his gaze firmly fixed on Carson's. "Telling her that her son was going to give up because things were getting hard."

Carson shook his head. "Drugs are wearing off. Hate them, but if you need more, maybe 'nother dose?" He wanted to beg, wanted to ask for oblivion, but he knew he couldn't go there until John and Radek had what they needed.

"Will that help you to stick with us?"

He nearly sobbed with relief. They were going to give him something to make it go away, at least for a little while. He couldn't even speak, just managed to nod.

"Biro's here already. Breathe and stay with me," Sheppard said, squeezing his hand. "You can push past it. I know you can."

This time he couldn't hold back the whimper as he felt the medication start to flow through his system, taking the edge off. He released his death-hold on John's hand, but didn't let go. He wasn't ready to face the world without that yet. It took a few minutes before he felt he could continue. "I…what else do you need?"

"Is there anything else you can think of? Anything else at all, even if it seems insignificant to you." Sheppard's voice was insistent but kind.

He focused thinking back. "After the shock, Rodney collapsed. The drug I gave him, it wouldn't have affected him that fast, or knocked him out at all. Just relaxed him, made it possible for him to sleep since he was so tense." He paused, taking several deep breaths before continuing. "After, when I did his blood work, there was nothing wrong. Nothing in his system. This isn't...biological."

"But it is affecting you physically," Biro said from somewhere near the Colonel. He couldn't see her. "Headaches, pain, stomach problems."

"Not real symptoms though. If this is his death, feeling death, it isn't our physical feelings...." He trailed off as he realized all the cramps, the sickness had been someone dying. He swallowed hard, doing his best not to let the panic overtake him, although he started shaking again. "Didn't do brain scans, didn't think we needed one."

"If you can handle it, I'd like to get you into the scanner," she said, appearing at the Colonel's side.

He nodded. "Just don't, don't leave me alone? I…it helps, touching, knowing this is real."

"If the Colonel is up for a little hand-holding, I think we can manage it. Might even be able to get those restraints off if you can stay with us." Biro offered a tense smile. "How about it?"

"Yes! Take them off! I promise, I'll try, I'll do my best."

Sheppard chuckled. "No comment about the hand-holding I see. Should I be worried?"

"Colonel," Carson managed a weak smile, "if holding your hand is all I have to do to get these off, I'm afraid you're going to have to explain to your superiors why you have an agitated Scottish doctor attached to you."

"Not a problem. We need you back, Doc," he said as Biro worked around him, removing the first restraint. Radek was trying to do the same one-handed on the other side.

Carson relaxed back into the bed, refusing to let go, but already feeling a bit better. The restraints somehow made it worse, intensified the helplessness, which just made the fear worse. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"We'll figure this out, Beckett," Sheppard finally said, his own voice quiet, his head turned slightly toward the other figure lying silently next to them. "We have to."

"Aye. I trust you. All of you."

John turned back, offering a tired, weary smile. "Let's get that noggin of yours looked at, why don't we?"

"Aye..." He squeezed John's hand again. "Don't worry lad, everything will work out. We'll be okay."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"You looked like you could use a little comfort too."

"Well, with the two of you out for the count, who am I supposed to harass?" John glanced up, his forehead scrunching a little before he turned back to Carson. "Is it okay if Radek heads back to the labs? Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Carson nodded reluctantly letting go of Radek's hand. "Go, find a way to un-do whatever it is that thing did."

"I will be back with an answer, I promise," Zelenka said, squeezing Carson's hand once more before letting go.

He swallowed, hard, knowing that Radek couldn't stay and hold his hand if he was going to fix the problem, but he did squeeze John's hand harder. "I know."

"Hey, Doc," John said, pulling his attention away from the scientist. "What was with the argument with Rodney the other night?"

He froze, remembering that. "Ah, um, nothing?"

Sheppard tugged at his hand. "Come on. What's up?" He glanced over his shoulder quickly. "Biro stepped out. Just us and one unconscious, drooling McKay."

Carson lowered his eyes. "Rodney was…angry. He requested to be removed from my patient lists. I..." He stopped, not wanting to reveal how guilty, how useless he was feeling.

"Rodney?" Sheppard shook his head. "He won't let anyone treat him—or touch him—except you."

"Not any more. I've asked Doctor Biro to take over his care." He couldn't raise his eyes to meet John's, afraid—his own fear this time and not a long-dead Ancient's—stopping him.

"Carson?" John's voice was quiet. "What's the real problem?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It is'na important."

The Colonel's hand tightened in his. "Don't give me that line of BS. I know you better than that."

Carson still refused to look up. "Really, it isn't a big deal. Rodney is more important."

"No kidding. Which is why I want you on the job. Biro's fine, but she's not you." He glanced over his shoulder as someone walked into the room. He turned back to Carson. "This conversation is not over," he said, just as Biro walked up.

"We're all set for you, Doctor Beckett. Ready for a little ride?"

He shot the Colonel a look, hoping he would just let it drop. Rodney was in better hands with Doctor Biro. Really.

"Aye. I'm ready."

***

Durand could hear them talking, whispering. There were two of them in the room, two men discussing something until the female doctor walked in and whisked them away, leaving him tied to the bed with only the machines for company.

He kept his eyes closed, his thoughts floating from one point to the next, already making the last few connections that would complete his project. It would only be a short time more before everything would be done, before they could finish off the Wraith once and for all.

He heard them enter, talking to each other, the sound of a wheeled object accompanying them.

"Good. He's still unconscious," said one voice, the female. "We can transfer him and get the sheets changed before he's realizes it."

"Then Biro can't complain," replied the second one, a male. They were beside him now, hands on his limbs as they released the restraints. He kept his breathing constant; his muscles limp and relaxed as if he were still slumbering.

"Okay, Anne," the man said, the voice coming from hear his head and he could feel the hands under his shoulders. "Are you ready to transfer?"

"One second, Scott." Anne replied, still fumbling with the last restraint around his ankle. "Okay. On three."

They were quick and efficient, Durand thought as the cool pallet they laid him on chilled his back. When they moved away, he cracked an eye, watching as they turned their backs.

He watched and waited. He needed to incapacitate the man first. He would be the stronger.

"Crap," Anne said, shaking her head. "I forgot to grab extra blankets."

"I'll finish up," Scott said, his skilled hands tucking the sheets around the mattress.

"I'll be right back."

Now. It had to be now.

With Scott's back to him, he rose quietly, trying not to groan in pain from his abused muscles. Pulling the item from his hand, he dropped it, the tubing swinging to hit the metal pole.

The man paused.

Durand didn't hesitate.

Leaving the man in a pile on the floor, Durand moved cautiously, still woozy from the drugs.

He waited by the door, knowing the woman, Anne, would be returning. Then, he was free. Atlantis would hide him, save him, protect him.

"Scott," Anne said, breezing in the door, her arms wrapped around the blankets she'd forgotten. She stopped several feet into the room, her body going rigid.

The blankets dropped from her grasp, her hand rising to her ear, only to be caught in Durand's hand as he stepped up behind her, wrapping his free arm around her.

"I’m sorry about this," he said, applying pressure to her neck, feeling her slump unconscious.

At least she didn't fight him like Scott had. It was…unfortunate for him.

Leaving her on the floor, her head resting on the blankets she'd dropped, he turned to the hallway, listening carefully, his mind already connecting with the city.

Now, to finish his work, he thought as he stole way, his bare feet making hardly any sound against the cool floor of Atlantis.

***

Carson stared at the ceiling surrounding him. The scan was almost complete—this was the last pass. He had been forced to relinquish Sheppard's hand for the duration, and had done so reluctantly, and only with the promise that he would be waiting when this was over. He was pretty sure he would be embarrassed by the need when this was all over, but for now, that comforting warmth reminded him he was alive and himself, not a dead Ancient.

As he was finally slipped out, he started to panic a little, looking around and seeing no one. Doctor Biro, he knew, would be on the other side of the machine, and the other nurses were attending to the regular duties of the infirmary. But he was alone. What if he really was dead, and Atlantis was the dream? He felt the panic starting to rise, despite the very good drugs, and heard a whimper. It took him a moment to realize it was him.

“Colonel? Oh God, not alone, please!”

"I'm here," Sheppard replied. "You're almost done."

Letting out the breath he hadn't realize he was holding, Carson turned a glare on the man. "Ach man, don't do that to me!"

Sheppard offered a tired smile. "You think I'd break my promise?"

He blushed. "No, I just, I didn't see you, and for a moment I thought I was alone. Sorry." He fiddled with his hands, enjoying being able to move them again, but realizing the damn things were shaking again. That was getting old.

"Not a problem," he replied, frowning slightly, his hand rising to his ear. "One second, Doc. This is Sheppard."

He listened and Carson could see his expression hardening before leveling out into worry and exasperation. "He knows the city better than anyone. He could be anywhere."

Uh oh. "What happened?"

Sheppard raised a hand, gesturing him to wait. "No, I really don't think he's dangerous. I don't care what you think happened."

"Rodney." It wasn't a question.

John nodded, his jaw tightening. "I don't care. If you find him don't—and I repeat—don't do anything. Just call me and wait."

He paused, obviously listening to the conversation in his ear. "I'm glad you see it my way. Sheppard out."

Carson pushed himself up, he need to help overriding anything else. "What happened? What can I do?"

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Sheppard took a deep breath. "Rodney seems to have skipped out."

"What?! He was supposed to be in restraints. They knew he was a danger to himself." Carson started kicking the sheets wrapped around his legs, trying to get them off. "We have to find him."

"Hang on, hang on," Sheppard said, a hand on his shoulder. "Before you run off…" He sighed again, waiting for Carson to settle. "It looks like he may have taken advantage of the situation. Biro wanted the sheets changed. Anne's unconscious and Scott's…it seems like he may have put up a fight."

Carson muttered a few choice curses in Gaelic. "Why would she order the sheets changed without more precautions? And why the hell wouldn't Anne have said something? I trained them better than this!"

John shrugged. "You'll have to ask Anne when she wakes up. She's going to be fine."

He let out his breath, relieved. "Well, what are you still doing here? Go find him!"

"Well, first off, I’m not leaving you here. Secondly, he could be anywhere."

Carson swallowed, the reason for the Colonel's presence by his side returning. But right now Rodney was more important. "I…I'll be okay. He needs you to find him."

Sheppard tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, a smirk flirting with his lips. "You up for a McKay hunt?"

"Me?"

"Of course. I made a promise to you, but I think you might be the only one on Atlantis who can think like McKay and Durand. I need you, Doc."

"I'm not...I'd just be a hindrance. You can move faster without a half-dead, mostly useless doctor in tow."

"Trust me on this. You might be the only one who knows where Durand might have holed up. You're probably the only one who really should be out there looking. The rest of us are going to be stumbling around in the dark."

"I don't have his memories. Just his final emotions. But..." Carson thought for a moment. "He wanted to get back to his lab, right? Can you patch in to the system and see if there are any life signs in sections of the city we don't use?"

"That's part of the problem. The sensors have magically gone offline—about five minutes after they think McKay went missing."

After a moment, Carson gave in, knowing he needed to do this for Rodney. "I'll need pants. I'm not going walking about Atlantis with my arse hanging out."

Sheppard burst out laughing. "I think we can manage pants."

Carson kicked free of the sheets and swung his legs out of bed. Once he was dressed, he stood, surprised at how wobbly his legs were. "Ready? Where to first? Has anyone seen him at all?"

"You gonna fall down or are you okay?" Sheppard asked instead of answering, looking at him carefully.

"I'll be fine." The drugs had worked their way mostly out of his system, but if they were going to find Rodney/Durand, he needed to be alert. Rodney hunting should, hopefully, be distracting enough.

"And no, no sightings. God," Sheppard said shaking his head. "I feel like we're looking for aliens or Elvis or something."

"Aye, Nessie is easier to track than McKay when he doesn't want to be found, and that's without an Ancient trying to take over his body." He started walking towards the door, his mind half on the problem of where Durand—it had to have been Durand in control—would have tried to go.

"Carson? Where are you going?" Sheppard asked, his voice floating from somewhere behind him.

"To find Rodney. Where else would I be wandering to?" Coming to the door, he stopped just outside. "Um, where to now?"

"You tell me. I've been calling you for a minute now."

"You have? Ah, sorry, I did'na hear you I guess. So..." He prayed Sheppard didn't ask him to tap into the death feelings to try and track down the missing physicist, although he had a sinking feeling that was what it was going to take. Could this day get any worse? "What should I do?"

Sheppard shrugged. "We can start with usual haunts."

"Okay. I'll follow you."

He sighed, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

Turning, Sheppard looked at Carson, his jaw tight. "I said, 'why do all civilians have to difficult?'"

Carson stopped, his face falling. "I'm sorry! I did'na mean... Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" God he was useless. He couldn't even manage to not annoy the one guy who seemed to care.

"Just stop! Stop." Sheppard took a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Look. I’m tired and worried. There's no need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing to you since I’m forcing you to do something you obviously shouldn't be doing right now. Biro's going to kill me when she finds out. Maybe you should just go back to the isolation room and rest. I'll ask Teyla or Ronon to sit with you."

Carson shook his head, his face taking on a stubborn cast. "I'm going to help. I want to help. I just..." He stared over the Colonel's shoulder for a moment, then made up his mind. "Wait for a moment. Traipsing around the city won't do us any good, as you pointed out. Let's see if this blasted echo I have will do us any good." He leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the accusation in John's eyes, and knowing it would help his concentration.

"Anything?"

He swallowed, not wanting to admit he hadn't started yet. "I'm working on it." Slowly, he let the corner of his mind he had been trying to ignore open up.

The shaking started almost immediately, and the fear, Sheppard's voice fading into the background. Carson dug his fingernails into his arm, needing the physical anchor. "Labs. Durand's labs. East section of the city." He gasped, digging harder, fighting the panic that wanted to take over. He felt the blood under his fingers, centered on it. "He…that's where he worked when he came here."

"Good, good. You sure?"

"Yes. Go. Rodney needs you."

"So do you."

"No. I'll be fine. I'll catch up. I just...need to catch my breath. Go!"

"I can wait. It's not like he's going anywhere. Let me call Lorne—"

"Just go. Doctor's orders. I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you here, Beckett."

Carson sank to the ground along the wall, trying to be unobtrusive about the fact that he had switched arms, and was now fiercely digging his nails into fresh skin. "Colonel. Rodney needs you. Durand is a figment of the past, determined to live in the past. He could hurt Rodney without meaning to. Please. Help him."

Sheppard's eyes widened. He raised his hand, triggering his radio. "Sheppard to Lorne." He paused, waiting for the reply. "I need you to meet me at the transporter closest to the East Pier. Yes, you heard me. Sheppard out."

Carson nodded, eyes closed now. "Help Rodney."

"Sheppard to Teyla. I need you to meet Carson outside the infirmary and stick to him like glue. Got it? Good. He'll he waiting for you. Right, Beckett?"

"Right, sure." Carson hoped the man would leave before Sheppard realized he wasn't—couldn't—go anywhere. He was losing himself, the pain helping but not enough. Damnit, he couldn't let go when Rodney needed him! His fingers found raw skin on both arms, digging in hard.

"He’ll be here waiting for you. Thanks, Teyla. Sheppard out." A moment passed before he spoke again, this time only a foot or two away from Carson. "And make sure Teyla gets those scratches taken care of."

"Scratches?" Carson forced himself to stand, using the wall to push himself up. For a moment he didn't think he legs would hold him, but then they steadied. "Aren't you gone yet? Rodney. Go fetch Rodney."

"Just making sure Rodney's doctor will still be in one piece by the time we get back."

"Doctor Biro isn't here..." He was getting confused. Too many things to try and process.

"I'm not bringing McKay back to the forensic pathologist. I expect you to be on your feet and ready to help get him back to his normal, grouchy self."

"Mmmmm." Easier to agree, or seem to agree. "Go." He turned to head back in the direction of the infirmary.

"Teyla, good," Sheppard replied, a smile in his voice. "Make sure Beckett gets treated and don't let him out of your sight. I'll bring McKay back shortly."

"Wait, Rodney could try and dodge you. Teyla should go too. Durand, he's an Ancient, has access to systems we don't know about. You need back-up, or whatever it is you call it." Plus, he couldn't collapse on the floor with Teyla standing there.

"Teyla, ignore any of his helpful suggestions. Understand?"

"Perfectly," she replied, a knowing tone to her voice.

Damn Air Force Colonels. "I'll have you know..." Stupid idea to try and step away from the wall. He tried for casual as he leaned back in, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." He glared. That always worked with Anne.

"Teyla," John's voice was stiff.

"Doctor Beckett will be fine. Go."

"Why is everyone so concerned about me? You have more important people to worry about!" He slammed his mouth shut, not believing he had let that little tidbit out. "Please, just go help Rodney and don't worry about me. I need to know whatever I screwed up gets fixed." Shit! He hadn't meant to say that either. Time to stop talking.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes, his words addressed to Teyla, his tone deadly serious. "Not out of your sight." And then he was gone.

Eyeing Teyla, he decided to see how long he could outlast her, standing against the wall. With his arms wrapped around himself, he knew she couldn't see the scratches or the blood, or that he hadn't stop creating new ones. He knew if he tried to move he was going to pass out, so maybe she would just be content to stand here for a few hours.

"Doctor Beckett?" Teyla sounded worried.

"I'm fine, lass. Just tired." Inspiration! "Why don't you head back to the infirmary and let them know they will be returning with Rodney soon? I'll meet you there." It was getting weaker, the panic and fear, but it had been a long, rather trying day, and sprawling at someone's feet didn't sound like a great way to end it.

"You do not look well and Colonel Sheppard would be…unhappy if I left you here." Her hand was on his arm, warming where it touched. "Let me help you."

He jerked at her touch, unintentionally exposing part of his now-bloody arm. "Um, I'm sure he was joking."

"He was not." She didn't sound pleased.

He tried to make his eyes focus. He couldn't slip now. Rodney needed him. He didn't want his mum to call him a sheep. Or was that John who called him that? He was more tired now than anything. Absently he recognized it as shock, but hey, this was a comfy wall, why not stay here?

"Doctor Beckett?" Now she sounded worried.

He released one arm to wave his hand at her, tell her he was fine, and was a bit startled by the blood on it. It distracted him. Who was hurt? Why was he so tired all the sudden?

Teyla reached for him, pulling him away from the wall. He heard something about the infirmary, and then the ground was suddenly much closer. Closing his eyes, his last thought as he drifted off was how lousy this whole day had been.

***

Durand glanced around the lab, despair and distress running through his shaking body. Everything was…gone. Destroyed.

He stumbled barefoot through the room, his feet encountering puddles of water and half-hidden debris.

The entire section had been powered down and nothing he'd done had allowed him to change it, forced instead to open each door manually and detour around areas that were inaccessible.

What had happened here? These…people couldn't have been telling the truth. They couldn't have been. Atlantis would never fall. They would never retreat.

Moving with purpose, he headed to the storage area, praying that the portable generator was still there. If he hooked it up to the power systems in the lab and pulled the consoles off the network, he'd be able to work undisturbed. The lab was shielded and the independent power source wouldn't show up—even if they managed to get the sensors working again.

He could finish of the circuit board here, but he'd still need to find the device. That might be more difficult than anything else. Evading the city's current inhabitants hadn't proved to be a problem. It was as if the city didn't even know some of them were here.

Very strange.

Prying open the door to the storage area, he shivered. Maybe he'd be able to get the environmental systems up and running, too. Poking through the mess that used to be one of the most organized rooms in the science department, Durand spotted the small generator along the wall, half-covered with other devices and spare parts—some broken, others just damaged.

He hissed as his feet encountered sharp edges as he paid more attention to where he was going and what else might tumble down on his head, than where he was putting his feet.

Once he managed to manhandle the generator out of storage, it was actually quite easy to set up. A few cables and he was in business.

Humming to himself, he got to work, his hands moving quickly, efficiently.

A soft noise, the sound of a boot scraping the floor, sounded loud in the silence of the lab. "Rodney."

Durand glanced up, startled, his shaking hand dropping the tool he'd been working with. A man was standing in the doorway he'd left open—damn, he'd forgotten about that—his eyes on him. Moving slowly, Durand began backing away, putting more of the workbench between them.

"So, not Rodney at the moment, then." The man sighed. "Look, ah…Durand right? Durand, there are men posted at every exit in this section. Even if you get past me, they are armed with weapons to stun you. I don't want to hurt you, but you are going to have to come back to the infirmary with me. If you want to help, you can tell Zelenka what to do." He leaned against the edge of the door, effectively blocking it with his body.

"I was not intending to leave," he replied after a few moments, narrowing his eyes at the intruder.

"I'm afraid you don't have much choice. You're hijacking the body of my chief scientist right now, and we frown upon that sort of thing here. You can either walk with me back to the infirmary and we can get this all straightened out, or I can shoot you and we do it the hard way."

He held the man's gaze, while his mind began to reach out to the city, triggering alarms in several locations. There was more than one way to play this game, and it was one that he did well.

"You may wish to contact the control room. I believe you may be needed elsewhere."

"They can manage without me for a while. Right now this is more important." The man's eyes narrowed, his drawl deceptively lazy. "Wanna know what we've managed to piece together from the database and what you've told us? That device you were working on, you activated it in a panic as the Wraith were preparing to attack. Only it didn't work the way it was supposed to."

Durand moved several more steps, the small, powerful generator within reach. "All I know is that you and your kind are infesting my city," he said, as several more systems went offline. Durand's voice hardened. "And I don't particularly like what you've done with it."

A gun seemed to appear out of no where, pointed directly at him. "I'd stop moving towards that thingy if I were you. I really don't want to have to shoot you, but I will if necessary." His eyes softened slightly, although the gun didn't waver. "Durand, your 'kind', as you put it, are gone. Dead or Ascended ten-thousand years ago. We are the second evolution of your race, like it or not. You aren't even really here. You are the memory of a probably good and brilliant man left on a device he was working on as he died trying to protect his people."

Durand paused, placing his hands placed casually on the workbench's surface, the metal cool under his touch. "Even if you are telling me the truth, I find myself caring less and less. And if you shoot me, you might be surprised to find out exactly what systems retaliate."

He could hear someone hurrying down the hall, coming up behind the dark-haired man.

"You would let your legacy be that you stole another man's body, and when you didn't like hearing that, you blew up your own city—the very one you died trying to save? Believe it or not, we love this city as much as you do, and would do anything we can to protect it. If that means I have to kill my best friend to stop the person controlling him, and get killed for it in return by the city itself, I will. But it doesn't have to come to that."

"If this city did fall, then I am honor bound to give my life to it as well. I have no choice."

"So give your life to it by helping the people trying to resurrect her. She sat empty and alone for a lot of years Durand, would you leave her alone again?" He straightened slightly from the door, but didn't make any moves to come further inside. "Not to mention, the Wraith are still a threat, still using this galaxy as a feeding ground. We're making more headway fighting them than anyone since the Ancients left. The war never ended, it just has a new set of soldiers to fight. Are you so desperate to be right that you'll betray your own side to win?"

"My side would never have given up and left!" It was hard to keep his attention on the systems. His control kept slipping. "Don't you understand?" He said, the words pushed out from between his gritted teeth. "I have no choice."

"There's always a choice. You may not like the options, but there's a choice. Look at it this way, your side didn't give up. They made a strategic retreat since they knew they would lose if they stayed. It took a bit longer than expected, but they passed on the genes and the technology to allow us to continue the war later. That isn't giving up, that's making a hard choice to ensure someone is still alive to keep fighting."

"No," Durand said, shaking his head as another rumble sounded, this one much closer, the alarm shrill. "It is you who does not understand. The choice is not mine to make. That choice was taken from me a long time ago. Live or die, my life is not mine. Has never been." The last whispered words, while true, still hurt, burned the most.

The man's eyes flickered at the alarm, but his gaze never left Durand's face. "I can feel what you're doing you know. I may not know how you're doing it, but I have the gene, stronger actually than the one you're using at the moment, since mine's natural and Rodney's isn't. Why are you forcing the city to rise up against us? Believe it or not, she likes us. I can feel it sometimes, almost like she's alive. And now, I can feel how torn she is. You're giving her the commands to attack the children she adopted as her own. You do have a choice, Durand. You can come with me, help me fix this. You can choose to accept that whatever happened to you in the past is just that: the past. Or you can choose to destroy everything you worked to save, and the children you helped create.”

He shook his head, trying to stop his limbs from shaking. "No choice," he said, the words muttered. "No choice at all."

"Saying you have no choice is just a way to avoid responsibility for doing something you know is wrong."

Durand closed his eyes, damning the man before him, hating him for forcing the issue. He took a breath, wishing for calm, but only finding panic and the artificial determination he'd been tagged with. "I was one of ten scientists," he began slowly. "There was a…project."

"Arcturus."

He heard the distain in the man's voice. "No. Another one, several years before. Much more…controversial. Scientific and medical." Durand opened his eyes, seeing hatred in the face before him "Why do you think I stayed when I heard the Wraith? I. Had. No. Choice. My actions had been chosen for me, by someone else, years before. I had a project to complete then as I do now. Leave me to it."

"I don't know what they did to you, but considering some of the other shit we've discovered the Ancients experimented with, I don't think anything would surprise me. But the people who did it to you, they're gone. It's just us now. Will you kill an innocent man, who's only fault was being too curious for his own damn good, stuck his hand in your project by accident, and suddenly found himself pushed aside in his own body?"

Durand shook his head, shrugging. "If that is even true, then he is doomed to my fate." He paused. "He is your friend, is he not?"

The man closed his eyes briefly, pain flittering across his features before it disappeared again. "Yes, he is my friend. He is also the most brilliant man I have ever known. You let him take control before. If whatever they did to you is driving you to this, let him take over again. We can find a way to set you free."

Durand shook his head. "I cannot. That was a lapse on my part and my…programming," he frowned, disliking the word, "will not permit it. I must finish." He gestured to the small circuit board he had been working on. "Let me."

"Programming? They weren't content to mess with genetics. No, of course not. They had to do brainwashing as well? No offense, but the more I learn about your race, the more fucked up I decide you were." The words were said more to himself than to Durand. The other man took a breath, pausing for a moment. "In most cases of brainwashing I've ever seen, usually they had to maintain some sort of control. A person or authority the person had to surrender to. I'm the head of the military command here. I can get the leader of our entire expedition on the line. If we both command you to stop, to let Rodney take over long enough to get you somewhere safe, will your programming allow that?"

Durand shook his head. "It was autonomous once activated. They did not want any…second thoughts." He sighed. "Look for project Domitus. You will need to use ferox as a password. That is all I can tell you," he said, wincing as spike of pain shot through his head. "I can do no more. But I ask you, beg you, to let me finish my work. I cannot be responsible for the…damages to the city if I am unable to continue."

The man relayed the information through the device over his ear, then focused back on Durand. "What was this device of yours, this project, supposed to do? For argument's sake, and so you don't blow up my city, let's say that after I'm done chatting with you I'll let you go back to work. So until then, let's keep talking."

Durand raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. "Why should I trust you?"

A grin played around the man's mouth. "Because I haven't shot you yet, and I really want to help? Not to mention my winning personality and stunning good looks."

He considered the words for a moment. "No. Those do not inspire trust. And seriously," he said, gesturing toward the circuit board with an unsteady hand, "will you actually let me pick up any tools?"

"Geeze, lighten up already. It was a joke. Live a little. Anyway, we agreed I'd let you work when I was done, and I still feel conversational." The man flashed him another grin. "I don't think we were ever properly introduced, so let's start there. I'm John."

"John," Durand said, applying a liberal portion of condensation to the name, "has it ever occurred to you that perhaps, I was not in the mood to, as you so eloquently said, chat?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot from Rodney too. Geek apparently breeds true. So, I like surfing and pina coladas on the beach. How about you? What do you do for fun?"

"I work." He gritted his teeth as he tried to control the shaking in his hand. "There is no other goal or prize that could compare to the pleasure a completed project can provide. And I must insist on you allowing me to work," he said, taking a few stumbling steps back to where he'd been working, his unsteadiness only increasing.

John's eyes had sharpened, and he moved inside the door for the first time. "You don't look so hot there, buddy." He suddenly stopped a look of horror on his face. "When was the last time you ate?"

Durand shook his head, the room spinning around him, his mind disconnecting sporadically from everything. "What does that matter?" he managed to ask, a pain in his mid-section nearly forcing him to his knees.

"Shit! Rodney's hypoglycemic. Durand, let me get closer to you. You are going to pass out in a few minutes, and I'd rather not watch you smack you head on the table. Not to mention you could damage that circuit you're so intent on fixing."

Durand shook his head, glaring at the man who'd approached him with smiles and assurances and overtures of trust. "You did this! I don't know how…or why…but you did this." He tried to concentrate, but things kept slipping, sliding away.

"No, Durand. Rodney, the body you're in, has to eat on a regular basis, or he goes into shock. He's also allergic to citrus, so we can be thankful you didn't feel the need to drink lemonade while you were working."

"You did this," he repeated, trying to move away from the bench, away from the man who loved surfing and whose smile never reached his eyes, away from the outstretched arms threatening to catch him. No. He couldn't let them take him. He couldn't.

"Rodney! Damnit, Durand, he's in there, ask him what happens when he doesn't eat if you don't believe me!"

He was cold, shaking, but he couldn't let them win. Couldn't. "Nonononono. You're just trying to trick me. Get me to let go. To stop me." John was getting closer, nearly on top of him even as Durand took another halting, stumbling step, his limbs refusing to cooperate.

John reached out and tapped the earpiece he wore. "I'm going to need a medical team down to the East Peir lab, stat! Rodney's body is going into hypoglycemic shock." He took another step towards Durand. "Think about this for a minute. If I had done this, do you think I would be so damn worried?" He dug a bar of some sort out of his pocket, peeled off the shiny wrapper, and held it out. "This is a PowerBar, Rodney always eats them when his sugar gets low to help fight the shock. Please!"

He hesitated, but reached out, his hand shaking. John reached forward, grabbing his hand and shoving the bar in place.

Durand looked at it before glancing up at the worried man before him, the edges of his vision beginning to darken. "Something…"

"Take a bite, get something in you!" John growled. "Forget the Wraith, civilian doctors are going to kill me! Eat before you pass out!"

He shook his head, trying shake the blackness away, but it only expanded. He felt his connection with the city fading, a few smaller explosions triggering at the abruptly shattered link. Arms grabbed him, hot against his cold skin.

"Damndamndamndamn. Don't do this!"

"John?"

"I'm here. The medical team is on the way. Just hang on a little longer."

"Cold."

"I know. This lab isn't exactly Bermuda." He tore his jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders. "I just need you to hang on a little longer." He broke off a small piece of the PowerBar and put it up to Durand's mouth. "Here, any sugar will help."

"Too late, I think," he said, the last connection to Atlantis finally closing down as his knees gave way and he slumped in the man's arms, his eyes closing. "Too…."

"No, come on, hang on a little longer." John lowered them both to the floor, his arms wrapped around Durand's body, shaking him a bit. "Lorne, where the hell is that med team?"

Durand opened his eyes, finding John hovering just above. "I'm sorry for your friend." His lids drifted shut and he could feel his muscles shaking and hear yelling, but nothing mattered. He'd lost. They'd won. This was fitting punishment for his failure.

***

It was the beeps that he first noted. The familiar, regular sounds that indicated medical equipment at work, monitoring everything they could think to hook him up to. The next thing he noticed was that he felt like he had been hit by a bus. Maybe more than one bus. And they each took a few tries.

It took Carson a few minutes of thinking to remember why he felt so horrid. Memory came back, though, and he was relieved to realize the overwhelming panic was gone, leaving behind only lingering traces of distress. And let's face it, the thought flitted across his mind, there weren’t many times any more when he wasn’t in some sort of distress over something, so that was okay. He could handle it.

The beeps were steadily drowned out by the rising sound of voices. He picked out John and Radek and Elizabeth. That was Teyla making a comment. The rumble could only be Ronon. Given what had happened, he assumed they had found Rodney, otherwise none of them would be here. Good. They could be a little quieter though. I mean really, there were sick people who needed to rest.

He was thirsty. He debated ignoring it in favor of sleep, but the scratchiness in his throat refused to go away. With a sigh, he forced his eyes open, a bit startled to immediately lock gazes with Ronon, who was sitting across staring at him. Carson froze, even as the man rumbled, his voice pitched to carry into the other room, “He’s awake.”

His beeps were completely drowned out then, as a whole troop of people came marching in, Doctor Biro’s voice carry above them all, complaining about patient rest and needing to let people sleep. Elizabeth shot her a look, forcing the other woman to silence, even as everyone else surrounded his bed.

“Ah?” It was the best he could manage. He spotted a glass of water with a straw on a table nearby, and almost got distracted from all the people in his immediate area in his longing for it.

Elizabeth offered a tired, weary smile as she picked up the cup, angling the straw toward him. "You gave us quite the scare. How are you feeling?"

He took a long sip, enjoying the cool sensation. "Rodney?"

She glanced away, meeting Sheppard's gaze for a moment before turning back. "Let's concentrate on you right now, shall we?"

He shook his head. "How is Rodney? Is he okay?"

Sheppard finally replied. "He's been better."

Carson felt his eyes go wide as he tried to force his tired body to cooperate, to push himself into more of a sitting position. "What happened?"

Elizabeth helped raise the head of the bed higher, so he was almost sitting upright. She fixed the pillows as the Colonel stalled.

He looked around, trying to catch someone's eye, frustrated when no one would look at him. Turning back to John and Elizabeth, he did his best to look intimidating. "Tell me."

John winced. "Hypoglycemic reaction, ring a bell?"

Groaning, Carson leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes for a moment. "In my office, locked cabinet, there's a mixture of sugar, water and a few other things. I keep a batch ready in case he needs it."

"Yeah, we found it," Sheppard said, "along with a few other things. Biro has him hooked up to more stuff than you. We're just…concerned."

"Aye... How long was he out before you got him here? Rodney has a pattern. If you can get that mix in him within the first thirty minutes, he's usually okay by the next morning."

John glanced at Elizabeth, his eyes sliding to the rest of the people in the room. "We weren't exactly close to the infirmary," he began.

Muttering a few choice curses in Gaelic, Carson tried to make his mind work. He still felt foggy, tired. He needed to get up, help. He couldn't just lie here. "Need to see him."

Elizabeth's hand appeared on his shoulder. "Rodney's not going anywhere."

"Aye, but I can't help if you don't let me up." He was a bit appalled that he didn't have the strength to sit up with her holding him there. She wasn't even really trying that hard.

"You need to get better first." She sighed, her lips clasping together in a thin line. "He's been unconscious for several hours. Doctor Biro has managed to stabilize him, but it's not looking good."

He shook his head, trying to get up again. "All the more reason to let me help! I'm just tired, lass. He's sick." He looked closely at her. "And you don't look good either. You need to go get some sleep. When was the last time you got any rest?"

She chuckled humorlessly, stepping to the side. "Does anyone really rest anymore?"

"You all need to get some bloody sleep." He muttered it under his breath. As he sat up, he hit him that he was shaking from the effort, and he was barely upright. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he caught Biro's eye. "Lass, on the top shelf of my bookshelf there's a spiral notebook. Every drug I've ever used on Rodney is in there, along with how he reacts. Last time he had a bad reaction, I hit on a combination that worked fairly well. Try that and see how it does."

"Yes, sir," she replied, moving quickly, the corner of her mouth twitching.

He looked around at the rest of the people by his bed as Doctor Biro disappeared around the corner. "The rest of you, go get a few hours rest. It will do you good."

"Actually," Sheppard said, pulling up a chair, "we've been waiting for you to wake up. We need some advice."

"Advice?" Carson swallowed. It was one thing to treat something he knew about, and Rodney had stayed too late in the labs more than once, so he knew how to deal with the hypoglycemia. But last time he had tried to treat something else, Rodney had ended up with the ghost of a dead Ancient in his head.

John kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed, leaning back in the chair, Elizabeth rolling her eyes at the Colonel. "How much do you know about conditional responses in humans?"

He blinked, not sure where this was going. "Conditional responses? Like Pavlov and his dogs?"

John shrugged lightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze focused at the end of the bed. "Maybe chemical programming or brainwashing might be a better way to describe it."

"And why would you be wanting to know about that?"

"Rodney….Durand, whoever the hell it was, mentioned a project that Zelenka has been able to dig out of the Ancient mainframe thanks to the coded project name and password Durand provided. Radek actually said that if we tried to access it without the password the entire file would have been erased. It's something very secret and on the boundaries of immoral and inhumane." John shook his head, glancing up at Weir. "I have to tell you, the more I find out about these guys the more I dislike them."

"And this...project...has to do with brainwashing? Colonel, what the hell is going on?"

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a hand fiercely across his face. "You're not going to like it."

"When do I ever like it?" Carson sighed. This was worse than pulling teeth. "You said you needed advice, well, you're going to have to spit out the problem if you want my help."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" He asked instead, looking at him. "You're not going to pass out or freak on me are you?"

He managed a humorless chuckle. "No, the worst of it seems to have faded. I think I can manage."

"Oh." John seemed to deflate for a minute before he swung his feet off the bed and rose, beginning to pace a little. "As best as we can figure out. Durand was one of the scientists on Doranda who also worked on the Arcturus project."

"Okay, but that project was a weapon, not genetic or behavioral research."

"No, you're right," Sheppard said, pausing at the end of the bed, glancing toward the silent Ronon and Teyla who were hovering. "But it seems like there was a specific reason Durand was part of the project, apart from his expertise in the sciences." He paused again, disgust flashing quickly over his face. "It seems that years before that, he was part of another project code-named Domitus. Basically, the Ancients were…scared that they might lost the war so they created a very elite group of scientists—of which Durand was a part—and programmed them to finish their projects at all costs."

"What?!" Carson was shocked. How could anyone do that? That was just...wrong. "But, why? And how do you know this?"

"Durand's confirmed that much for us," John said, his shoulders slumping. "And the file filled in some of the rest. It involved chemicals, altering brain waves, and some other stuff that Doctor Z was having problems figuring out. We were hoping you may be able to make heads or tails of it."

Carson shook his head, staring off into space. He absently picked at the bandages on his arms, pulling at the tape as he thought out loud. "If he was still under the influence, even in another body, it couldn't have been chemical, or at least the bulk of it couldn't have been, otherwise he wouldn't still be feeling it. The only thing that would have carried over would be brain-wave patterns, but how do you alter someone's thought processes without killing them?"

"The file is extensive," Elizabeth said, "but most of it borders the line between science and medical."

"We are hoping that between you and Zelenka you can figure out what they did and undo it. Otherwise, I'm not sure what else we can do," Sheppard said, picking at the blanket along the edge of the bed.

"Chemicals could have been used to make someone more susceptible to it, but at the base level they had to have built an action-reaction response into how the person thinks. This sounds a bit more complicated, but it sounds like they somehow re-routed all his thoughts, so everything led back to the conclusion of completing the project at all costs."

"Something like that, yes. Even to the point that they'd protect the project above their own life and they'd be willing to kill for it." John turned away, swallowing thickly.

Suddenly, the other part of what John had said sunk in. “What do you mean you don’t know what else you can do? This is all fine and dandy, but Durand, the poor bastard who had this done to him, died ten-thousand years ago and I can’t do much to help him now. What are you doing to get him out of Rodney?”

John's reply began with a long sigh. "Durand is convinced he didn't die."

"I bloody well don't care what Durand thinks. I felt him die. I felt...." He trailed off, digging one nail into the skin under his bandage. It wasn't as bad as before, but talking about it still wasn't pleasant. "The only one who matters here is Rodney."

"And Durand doesn't look like he's anywhere near ready to leave." John paused again, his face thoughtful. "I don't want to have you break doctor-patient confidentiality or anything, but how bad is Rodney's claustrophobia?"

Carson looked up sharply. "He can control it for a bit, but if left for too long it can get bad. You think he's aware somehow, knows what's happening to him but can't do anything about it?"

"It was something Radek said when Rodney…popped out the last time." Sheppard's hand gestured absently. "According to Zelenka, Rodney was nearly hysterical, claims of being trapped, or feeling smothered, of it being dark. He hasn't been able to surface since then."

"Bloody hell. If you don't get him back soon, there might not be much of him left to recover. Rodney's claustrophobia is bad enough by itself, but that..." Carson swallowed hard. "I... I don't know what to say... Rodney..."

"And that's only part of the…problem."

Carson's features hardened. He couldn't be stuck here, they needed him mobile and alert. He glanced around, listening for where the nurses and Doctor Biro were. None were close, which was good, since he doubted they would approve. "Colonel, go to the supply closet, the last row, second shelf. There is a clear liquid in a bottle with a green label. I need you to get it for me." It was a powerful drug, one that would pretty much make his body think everything was fine for a while. It was dangerous, but in this case, necessary.

"Shouldn't you let Doctor Biro—" Elizabeth protested, her eyes narrowing even as John moved to obey. He paused, though, waiting to hear Carson's reply.

"No. She doesn't need to know."

"Carson." It was one word, but the tone said it all.

He shook his head. "I can't do anything for Rodney here. I need to get up and get to the lab with Radek to figure this out, and I can't do that when I feel like I've been run over a few times."

"And killing yourself is a better option?" This time Sheppard was the one who replied, standing with hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll be careful. Only take what I think I need. If you really feel its necessary, tell Doctor Biro once this is all over and she can watch me for signs of addiction."

"How about we talk to Doctor Biro, now?" she said, standing to the side, her eyes fixed on him.

He gulped. Biro wouldn't allow it, he already knew. John and Elizabeth didn't know enough about drugs to know what various individual ones did, or know his history with this particular one. He had, briefly in med school, been addicted to this one, which was why he knew it would work. It wasn't something he was interested in returning to, since the detox had been the worst experience of his life, but... "She needs to focus on Rodney."

" _She_ is right here." Her tone was hard. Demanding.

"She has bigger things to worry about."

Biro stepped closer, clearly unhappy. "If you would excuse us for a minute, my patient and I need to speak privately."

"No. I..." He felt vaguely betrayed when everyone left. Glancing at Biro, he tried to look competent. "You know this is the only way I'm going to be useful, and they need me right now."

"Back up a minute, Carson," she said, deflating a little. "I want to help you, but you need to tell me what's going on in your head."

"I need to do something useful. I can't sit here and wait for someone else to find a way to help Rodney. I know," he paused swallowing, knowing this was his one shot to convince her. "I know it's dangerous, but I don't have a choice."

"What did you have in mind?" Her tone was tight, but she hadn't said no.

He lowered his eyes to his lap. "The methamphetamine."

There was a long pause before she replied sounding shocked and a little surprised. "And you think this is a good idea, how?"

"I...don't think it is a good idea exactly, I just don't have any others." He looked up. "I know it will work, I've...used it before."

"I know."

He felt himself flush a bit. "Look, you can watch me after this is over, test me if you need to make sure I'm not abusing it." He remembered how fast he had gotten hooked last time. One 'hit' had been all it took.

"It's not that I don't trust you," she said, her words coming slowly. "I do. I’m concerned that you might hurt yourself more in the long run. You're not exactly in the best of health right now."

He bit the inside of his lip. She shouldn't really trust him, and he hated doing this. "That's why I need it. They need, Rodney needs, me enough to outweigh the concerns." He stared at his hands for a moment. "I...know it will be hard to stop again. I remember how hard it was the first time."

"Carson," she said after nearly a minute of silence. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course!" He looked up, startled she would even have to ask.

"How about we do this my way?"

"Your way?"

"I'd rather not use something that you're already known to….have an affinity for. But, there are several other things I can try. They're less addictive and less potent, but I think it might do the trick." She paused, looking him in the eye. "I know how much you want to help and honestly, this is way beyond anything I've ever seen. We need you working on this. So, do you trust me?"

He let out the breath he had been holding, aware that he was shaking a bit from the pent up emotion. He hadn't realized just how much he had wanted her to say no, to offer an alternative. "Aye. Please."

"Good. Then lie back. I'll ask your…conspirators to return and then I'll be back. I'll need to monitor you for about an hour before I'm going to let you get up. Agreed?"

He nodded, offering a weak smile. "Thanks, luv."

"Welcome," she said already moving past the privacy curtain, speaking to his waiting friends. "You can go back if you want. I've got him sorted. It'll be about an hour before he's on his feet."

The rounded the corner a few seconds later, settling around his bed.

"Radek, why don't you fill me in on what you've found while we wait?" He settled back, determined to figure out how to fix this.

***

Durand opened his eyes, squinting against the glare of the overhead lights as he lay flat on his back. He couldn't hear the city, everything muted and dulled—both by the shielding in the isolation room and also due to the drugs in his system.

John had tricked him.

Tugging at his arms, he found them restrained once again, the bindings even a little tighter than before, the one across his chest an added bonus.

They were not taking chances this time, he realized.

Rolling his head to the side, he focused on the far wall, willing his mind to be silent, to slow down. There would be other opportunities, he told himself. He had to be patient. He would try again and this time he wouldn't fail.

A shuffle of clothing and the squeak of something against the floor pulled his attention toward the door, past the spot where he'd left the nurse, to watch as someone was wheeled in by the female doctor. He was familiar. He'd been here before.

"Hello! I see you're awake too." The cheerfulness seemed a bit forced.

Durand turned away. Why be conversational? They'd just used it against him before.

The man's voice got a bit harder. "I'm told you don't remember your death. I thought I'd tell you about it, since I got to re-live it a few times."

Durand rolled his eyes. "Leave. I will not disclose any further information."

"I don't really want you to tell me anything. I already know you were working on a project of some sort, partially against your will. I know you feel like you have to finish it because some bloody bastard messed with your head—and incidentally if he was still alive I'd cheerfully pound him into the ground for that—and I already know you are more or less killing my friend. No, I don't really want you to tell me anything, I want you to listen."

He turned his head, eyeing the strange man. "And what if I do not wish to?"

"Well, I don't really think you have much choice at the moment." He looked rather deliberately at the restraints. Then his voice softened. "Look, I don't pretend to know a fraction of what you've gone through. But I can tell you what happened at the end, or some of it. When you took over Rodney, you somehow passed those last moments to me, and quite frankly I don't blame you since they are moderately horrid."

Durand felt the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Nothing you say will change anything."

"Probably not. From what I can tell, they used a chemical to relax your will, then did something to alter your brain waves and thought patterns. They've tied every thought you have back to that bloody project." He shook his head. "It makes me wish I had been alive then, or that we had some way of giving you your own body back. If I had access to you, instead of an impression, I could probably find a way to reverse it and give you a life again." He sighed, drifting off for a moment.

"I chose the project," Durand said quietly, nearly a minute later, his eyes focused on the wall behind the man in the chair.

"Aye, you chose to help your people—which is admirable. I know many scientists like yourself whom I respect a great deal. But they took that passion and warped it, using you as an experiment instead of trusting you to do your job."

"She asked me not to."

The man looked over at him, his eyes kind, understanding. "She?"

"Nydia."

"I heard you mention that name before. Your lover?"

Durand focused on the man beside the bed, his eyes widening. "I did?"

"Aye, when you and Rodney were first warring for dominance. Tell me about her."

He turned his head again, feeling the prick of something in his eyes. "She was my mate, my wife. At least until the project."

The other man made interested noises, trying to get him to continue.

"She didn't approve of it."

"Why?"

"She did not trust them. Claimed there was something…wrong with the project." He chuckled humorlessly. "She was correct."

"You said she was your mate until the project. What about after?"

He ground his teeth together, the memory still painful. "She died about a month after I was initially offered the position as head scientist in this special project."

"I'm so sorry, lad!" He was sitting close enough that he could reach out, placing his hand over Durnad's. "How did it happen?"

He kept his fingers from curling around this man's hand, stopped himself from taking any comfort. "An accident."

Long fingers curled around his hand, squeezing slightly. "I'm sorry."

"I accepted the position the next morning."

The man nodded. "It makes more sense now. I must admit, I couldn't understand why you let them use you that way. But I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same in your situation."

"They had been very…persuasive, but she knew me better than I did, knew what would happen, what kind of man I'd become."

"Did she, was she...vocal...about her desire to not have you participate?"

"I guess, no more than usual. We both…we tended to speak our minds. Our fights were…memorable."

Silence for a moment. Then, "Durand, what kind of accident did she have?"

Durand shifted as much as the restraints would allow, staring at the ceiling high above. "A lab accident. She was working with some unstable elements, which was nothing unusual. It could have happened to anyone."

"But it didn't. It happened to the mate of a scientist the ones in charge wanted for something else. A mate who was very vocal about not wanting said scientist to have anything to do with their project."

"She lost her assistant the week before," he said, turning to face the man at his bedside, his eyes filled with anger. "She was upset and we'd fought that morning. It was a careless mistake."

"Lost her assistant?"

"Her job was even more dangerous than mine. Accidents were…common."

"Aye, accidents are always a possibility in jobs like yours, but tell me lad, how often did the same lab lose two people in the same week? How often was your mate careless, even if she was upset?"

"It was an accident!"

"Was it?"

Durand turned away. "I don't know why I’m even talking to you. Please leave."

The hand squeezed Durand's again, not letting go this time. "When you died, you were terrified. You had turned something on, and time was out. It hurt, hurt so badly..." the soft voice choked off on a short sob.

He tried to free his hand, twisting his arm until he gasped in pain. "No. It's not done. Nothing's wrong. I just have to finish it."

"Panic, terror, death. It didn't work, you were out of time." The hand gripping his was shaking. "Please, it's fading, but still there, I can still feel it. Please tell me how to make it stop."

"It worked. It had to work. I just need to finish it." He was back there again, hearing the sounds just outside as he frantically tried to finish. He had a safe place to leave the completed device where they'd find it to use later. But he had to finish it first.

"No. I don't know exactly what happened, but you activated it, and it didn't work as planned. Instead, your death, your personality, got stored in it until Rodney came along and had it imprinted on him."

"Nonononononononononononono. It had to work. It had to." He kept repeating it, trying to block out everything else, knowing abstractly that his voice—which didn't sound like him at all—was getting louder and louder and more hysterical with every passing second.

The man's other hand came around to grip his arm. "Sorry lad, but this is about all that worked for me." He dug in, hard, just hard enough to break the surface. "You need to stay with us."

Something inside broke and he began to struggle, unintelligible words flying from his lips, all of his muscles tensing under the pressure.

"Durand! Rodney! Snap out of it!" A cold glass of water was tossed into his face. "This always worked for me mum..."

He gasped, coughing harshly as some of the water lodged in his windpipe. It was hard, though, laying flat on his back and tied securely to the bed, but he turned his head, trying to catch his breath and cough at the same time.

"Better?"

He opened an eye, looking at the now-standing man. "You tried to kill me. How can that be considered better?"

"Kill you?" There was a low chuckle. "Nae, lad, I don't want to kill you. If you would let me, I would help, but you don't seem to want that either."

He turned his head away, coughing a little. "Just leave me alone. You cannot help me. No one can."

"No, I can't help you. But you can help yourself. You want release, want this to be over. We want Rodney back. He's claustrophobic, and as it is being jammed into a dark corner of his own mind is probably slowly driving him insane. But if you tell me how the imprint was supposed to work, we can fix your device, which means your program is at an end, and in the process, you get release, we get Rodney back, and I get to stop having nightmares of someone else's death. How's that sound?"

"Why do you keep insisting we bring this 'Rodney' into the conversation?" Durand shook his head, missing the hurt and anger that flashed across the other man's face. "The device was working perfectly. One more circuit and it would have been complete."

"We keep bringing him up for the same reason you keep thinking about your mate. He's someone we care about. How would you feel, if you could have come in after the accident, done something to save her? This is Rodney's accident, only he isn't dead yet."

Durand turned cold inside, the answer coming quickly, easily. "There was nothing I could have done."

"No, not then. There were powerful people determined to see you were 'available' to do the work they wanted for you. But there is something you can do now, to stop it from happening again."

Durand turned his head, his eyes meeting the other man's, enjoying the finch he received. "The only thing I plan to do is kill anyone who stops me from completing my project."

The man shook his head, sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry you feel that way. It would have been easier to finish your device and reverse its effects with your help, but make no mistake lad, we'll figure it out without you as well."

"Don't you know?" Durand said, making the man pause. "You can never go back. You can never reverse anything."

"No, I suppose you can't change the past." The look was sharp, knowing. "But you can always change the future."

"No," Durand said, his voice quiet and low. "No, you can't."

"It might not be easy, I'll give you that. But there are always choices." It almost sounded like an echo of John, Durand vaguely thought. "We can choose how we deal with past events, and we can choose to accept the future or do our best to make it come out right."

"Choices don't exist in some worlds, in some lives." Durand turned, his eyes fixed on the man across from him. "I already know when I’m supposed to die and I know what you say, what you claim, is wrong because Atlantis is still standing."

"Choice always exists. Sometimes it's just a choice of what to have for breakfast, and sometimes you get to choose things that effect hundreds of people. Sometimes you just get to choose if you accept pain or fight. But there is a choice, lad. Your death was meaningless, a tribute to stupid people who made stupid choices. And Atlantis? We found her on the bottom of the sea, collapsing as her power drained to the point where she couldn't hold back the sea for much longer. We choose to raise her, bring her back to life, and continue the fight the Ancients left behind in this galaxy. We could choose to flee, to destroy Atlantis to ensure the Wraith never find our home world, but we won't. We'll stay until the war is over, not because we have to, but because we choose to."

"You listen and you speak, but you still miss my point."

"No, I understand. You believe you have no choice, and to a certain degree, yes, it was stripped from you. But those people are long dead. You can choose to fight the compulsions they drilled in to you, to help us, but instead you choose acceptance. Fine. That's your choice." He was still standing, gripping the bed. He started to carefully turn himself, so he was facing the door, getting ready to leave.

"Don't you understand? I tried to fight it, but they just made it stronger and stronger. She was right; this project was so very wrong, but I was caught, trapped. The device was only part of my assignment. Everything I've done for the past ten years has been to fulfill this one last mission." Durand shouted. "I was their last hope. Atlantis should never have risen, should not be here."

The hand reached out to grab his again, lightly this time, so he could pull away if he wanted to. "That you fought, that takes courage. Especially under those conditions. No one here condemns you lad. In fact, I think we are all a bit sad we can't have you and Rodney. You would probably like one another quite a bit, and between you, I have no doubt you could create anything. It's a shame all your superiors saw was a bug to be crushed. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault."

Durand glanced away, a laugh bubbling in his chest. "This galaxy is a curse to life, to living. And I, the great and powerful Durand, was to orchestrate its final song."

"Why don't you tell me, and not," he said, raising his hand to hold off any objections, "because I want to use it in some way, or force you to do something, or any of the million things running through your head. I only want to know because I like you, oddly enough."

Durand looked up. "We knew Arcturus would fail. It was fundamentally unstable, but they insisted we finish it—just in case. The device you have is the remote for it. But I was the back up plan. It would have been a fitting end, I think. After we created life in this galaxy, it was only just that one of us finished it once and for all."

"Finished it?"

"The destruction of Atlantis once they returned home was only the beginning. When I'm done, Pegasus will no longer exist."

The man swallowed, hard. "Why?"

"Why not? This was one mistake we intended on cleaning up."

Silence for a moment. "You know, as horrible as that is, I understand the Ancient logic. If you can't have something, no one can. It was like how they treated you, just on a larger scale. If the galaxy won't bow to their will, they destroy it."

"It's a matter of pride. Besides, there were always other galaxies, other projects, other experiments. This was just one of them."

"Ah yes, pride and arrogance. The two things that brought the mighty Ancients down." He was staring off into space now, his whole body drooping a bit, exhaustion starting to show through. Abruptly he sat down. "We could argue all day about comparative morality, but it really won't get us anywhere."

Durand chuckled. "As if that was ever a problem."

Movement near the door drew his attention as the female doctor walked in, her hands carrying several items—none of which he recognized. The nurse from before followed behind her.

The man looked up, a tired smile spreading across his face. "Ah, Doctor Biro, Anne. I…think I’m done here.” He shot one last wistful look back at Durand, and then turned to see the doctor holding out a needle.

“All right Carson, I’ve been watching and you seem to be taking that dose okay. I’m going to give you a little more to allow you to work, on the condition that you come back here every two hours for a full exam before I’ll give you any more.”

“Aye, I promise,” the man, Carson, chuckled as she pushed the needle into his arm.

She finished, placing a small bandage on Carson's arm before she turned to him. He eyed Biro as she approached. "I will not like this, will I?"

She gave a small laugh, "I'm afraid not. None of my patients have ever liked this. They all complain loudly, but it is necessary."

"If you let me go, I won't bother you anymore."

"No, you can’t just go blow us all up, along with every scrap of life in the galaxy." Her gaze turned hard. "I was listening to the conversation." She looked over at the nurse, who had deposited the materials on a table. "Anne, could you bring Carson out to Doctor Zelenka and Colonel Sheppard? They are waiting for him."

"I forget how good the pick-ups are in here," he commented, a knowing smile on his face. "Get everything you needed?"

She ignored him, motioning for two large orderlies to come help. They released the chest restraint and angled the head of the bed upright, so he was sitting up. The tubes and other accoutrements didn't look very friendly.

"What exactly are you doing?"

She ignored him, taking measurements with the tube, a small piece of tape marking a section. "This is going to hurt a bit."

After lubricating a section, he approached again, glancing to the orderlies. "Hold him. I only want to do this once."

It took a few minutes, and a lot of cursing on his part, but she stepped back a few moments later, a smile on her face as she finished everything. "Now we won't have to worry about you living only on an IV since those restraints are not coming off."

"You don't trust me?"

"I wish I could, but no, actually, I don't trust you at all."

Durand shook his head as the back of the bed was lowered—not flat this time—and the chest restraint was tightened down again, keeping him in place. His wrist restraints were adjusted as well.

"You're probably the smartest one of the lot of them," he said, a half smile on his face.

"That's because I'm female. We allow the men to believe they run things to keep them happy."

He inclined his head. "True. But what of the geniuses?"

***

Carson reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. Together, he and Radek had spent the last hour and a half combing the database for information on how the brain-wave alteration worked and how Durand’s device was supposed to fit into the events that had transpired. And so far, they didn’t have much. He was getting frustrated, especially knowing he would have to stop soon, take a break and return to the infirmary for another dose of drugs, when he wanted to stay and work until they solved the problem.

In the next room over, he could hear the low murmur of voices, the Colonel and Elizabeth going over the non-technical, non-medical information, trying to find more information about the ‘project’ and Durand’s role in it.

He looked back up, re-focusing his eyes on the screen in front of him. Radek was going over the technical specifications, and he was examining all the medical and genetic information they could find. A quick glance showed Radek absorbed in his own screen, one hand making his already-wild hair stand on end even more.

“Found anything useful yet, lad?” He needed to break the silence, even for a moment, before diving back in.

Radek glanced up, his eyes focusing a moment later. "There is much information to go through."

"Aye, I know. Anything look promising though?"

Pulling off his glasses he rubbed the heel of his hand on his face before returning the spectacles to their usual perch. "The device, it seems, was very simple. Not in it's structure or design, but in it's intended use. It was to work like most Ancient technology that keys, or locks to its user. Much like the small shield device."

"But? I hear a but in your voice, and something tells me I will'na like it."

"The device should never have accepted a memory imprint like we suspect it did."

Carson thought about that for a moment, putting that together with what he had been able to discover about how the Ancient's had messed with Durand and the other scientists' brain waves. "Radek, it shouldn't have accepted a memory imprint from a regular Ancient. But how did it work? Could the alterations to Durand specifically, this programming nonsense, have made a difference? Or do you think it was purely a mechanical malfunction?"

Radek shook his head slowly. "I do not think so. The device should have been keyed to a specific individual, nothing more. The device itself was not powerful enough to do more. It was only a remote trigger for the weapon on Doranda."

Carson stared at him. "So, it wasn't the device that caused Durand to be...downloaded and stored for retrieval? But how did it happen then? How did he get trapped in there?"

"I might have an answer for you."

Carson swiveled around, seeing John and Elizabeth walking in, both looking a bit sick. "What do you mean?"

"How much has Durand said about what was going on, about what he remembers last?" Sheppard asked, leaning a hip on the workbench.

Carson quickly replayed his last conversation in his head. "He was almost done with that device of his, but it was only part of a larger project. A trigger for something that was designed to wipe out the galaxy—the old, 'if I can't have it no one can' mentality. I think he remembers being in his lab, trying to finish as the Wraith were closing in. But the last few moments, he doesn't have."

"Actually, it seems that's only partially true," Elizabeth said, moving a few steps closer. "From what we've been able to piece together, he was part of a…special project to fix some of the mistakes the Ancients had created, the Wraith being one of the bigger ones. The weapon on Doranda was initially only supposed to be used to fight off the Wraith, but had been altered to do much more. The official reports never covered the 'much more' aspect because aside from this small group, no one else knew."

"Wait, you mean there was some sort of rogue faction sabotaging the Doranda weapon? They wanted it to blow up, to destroy...." Knowing how much had been destroyed in the explosion when Rodney had failed to fix it, and how guilt-stricken he had been— "Wait, so first the Ancient scientists who built it, then Rodney, were doomed to fail from the start because a few people in power decided to abuse it?"

Sheppard winced. "It seems that way. But, there's more."

"There always is, isn't there?" He sighed.

The Colonel held his gaze for a moment before glancing away. "Yeah. Always." He paused for a moment before he began again. "Durand was right about the Wraith. They were on the ground, attacking the people, but from the reports, it seems that they had one goal in mind: destroying the weapon. Seems they'd gotten wind of the official story. I'd hate to see what would have happened if they knew the truth."

Knowing how relentless the Wraith could be when irritated, Carson blanched a bit. "That's why the city around the base was all but destroyed, nothing left alive there..."

"More or less. Whatever the Wraith didn't destroy, the weapon did when they finally test-fired it. Durand, though, was killed in his lab while he was working on the remote device. It took a while, but the Wraith finally managed to find him."

Carson shook his head, confused. "There was an explosion of some sort, I felt it, felt the panic knowing something was wrong. But you're saying the Wraith killed him. And that doesn't answer how he ended up in that device."

"They were using energy devices, correct?" Radek asked, turning to the Colonel.

He shrugged. "Probably."

"That initial blast that killed Durand may have provided just enough energy—a single burst of energy—at the same time as his death."

With a sigh, Carson shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him that things like this could happen. Everything happening at just the right—or wrong—time to set off an event that by all rights never should have happened. He looked over at Radek. "All right we know what happened now. Any ideas on how we can reverse it?"

He shook his head, eyes wide. "I did not think it possible of happening in the first place, let alone re-creating the event."

"What about you?" Sheppard asked. "Have you been able to make heads or tails of anything?"

Carson shook his head, depression setting in. “Nothing that will help. Everything I’ve come across suggests they never progressed beyond figuring out how to alter brainwaves. They weren’t interested in reversing any imprints once they had been made, so they did'na bother to see if it could be done, much less how to do it.” He trailed off.

After a brief moment of silence, Elizabeth, who had remained in the background watching, voiced what none of them wanted to say. “We have no way of getting Durand out of Rodney.”

Carson looked up, met her eyes. “No, lass, I don’t know of any way to force him out.”

"That's not what I want to hear." The Colonel's voice was hard, rough.

"Trust me, I don't either. But if we can't force him out... Radek, you know how Durand got stuck in that bloody device. Could you re-create it? If he was willing, maybe..."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I would need Rodney. He knows the most about these systems and how they interact."

"And from your last conversation with him," Elizabeth said, "it doesn't seem like Durand would be willing to help us."

Carson's shoulders hunched forward. "I know. But I don't have any other ideas."

"Are you sure there's no trigger to release Durand from his programming?" Sheppard asked after nearly a minute of silence. "Even when…we program someone, there's always an override. Something."

"He doesn't seem to think so." Carson started to deny it, but remembered something he'd seen in the in the database. "Wait..." he said, taping at the keys to bring the information up that he recalled. "Here. Radek, look at this." He turned his laptop around, showing the Czech the blueprints for a small device.

Radek adjusted the glasses on his nose, examining the file. "I do not recognize this."

"My Ancient isn't great, but if I'm translating right, it seems like this was a design for a medical prototype of some sort. And it's in with the files and records for the programming experiments, so maybe it's relevant."

Elizabeth moved toward Radek, glancing over his shoulder. It took a few moments, but she was nodding. "It was supposed to be a…way to adjust the programming. I think that's what it says. The scientific translations are the hardest to understand."

"Then that's where we need to start." Carson stood up, planning to move around the desk where he could look over Radek's shoulders. He was a bit surprised when his legs folded under him, and he ended up back in his seat. But he didn't have time to stop right now. "Pass me the medical information. While you try to build it, I'll figure out how to work it."

"Actually," Sheppard said, glancing at his watch. "Why don't we look and you check in with Doctor Biro"?

"We're running out of time, Colonel." He grabbed the laptop back from Radek, who had finished downloading the specifications into his own machine. He immediately tuned out the world around him, focusing on reading the notes that came up as fast as the translation program now running could feed it to him.

Suddenly, the chair he was in was pulled away from the desk and he found himself face-to-face with Elizabeth. "That was not a suggestion. John will make sure you get to the infirmary and back in as little time as possible."

"Gah..." He was a bit startled. "Elizabeth, I have work to do. This can't wait." He tried to pull away, move the chair back to the desk.

Sheppard, still hanging onto the back of the chair, leaned down. "Play nice or Doctor Biro might make you stay home."

Carson grumbled, trying to think up a good excuse John would actually accept, but nothing came to mind. So he tried blackmail instead. "You know, pushy people sometimes find themselves in situations where more needles are necessary during otherwise routine examinations."

"I'll make sure to mention that to Biro," he said, grabbing an arm and levering Carson upright.

His eyes widened, as he gave up and let the man help him up. "You wouldn't!"

"You'd be surprised at what I'd do, Doc. Very surprised," Sheppard replied, his voice quiet, serious.

Startled, he threw the Colonel a cautious look, the quickly averted his eyes. "Ah, well, um, lets just be going then, shall we? I really do need to get back to the notes if I'm going to be able to work it by the time Radek puts it together."

"Good plan, Beckett. Good plan."

He swallowed, and allowed himself to be helped into the wheelchair. He hated being this weak. "Aye, lets just get this over with," he grumbled.

John stepped behind and began maneuvering them out of the science lab. "We'll be back in about half and hour if Beckett behaves."

"Beckett is right here, and you can stop talking about him as if he were a wee baby."

"Maybe if he wasn't behaving like one I'd have a little less trouble," Sheppard muttered, heading down the hallway to the transporter.

"Hmph. Maybe if pushy Air Force Colonels weren't so intent on having their own way, it wouldn't be a problem."

"I'm I going to have to tell mom?"

"No no, that's okay!" He said quickly. The last think he wanted was to be confined to the infirmary again. That didn't mean he couldn't be surly about the whole thing though. "Who taught you to play so dirty?"

"You did."

"Me?"

"Trust me. You're the best." Sheppard steered into the infirmary when the doors slid open to allow them entrance. Biro was waiting for them, eyeing her watch. "And, I'll leave you in the doctor's capable hands while I go and check on our other patient. I'll be back."

Carson spluttered a bit, but the Colonel was already heading out the door, and there was no way he was going to respond when Biro was standing there watching him. Damn pushy Air Force Colonels. Always had to have the last word.

***

Durand heard the door open, but kept his eyes closed determined not to be bothered with these…people. The urge to…do something was getting stronger, but the drugs they were pumping him with kept it just under the surface.

But it tended to keep him in a continuous state of annoyance and frustration. As if the situation wasn't bad enough already.

No one had prepared him for this. This was so far outside his training…

"How's our little mad scientist doing? Feeling better?" The bed bumped a few times as if someone was nudging it.

Durand sighed. It had to be him.

"Come on, I know you're awake. Biro used Carson's notebook of weird drug combinations to stabilize you. It seems Rodney was like an ongoing experiment, with all his allergies and various conditions."

"And, your point? Since I'm assuming you have one."

"Just wanted to see how you're doing. If it was Rodney in charge, he'd be hollering by now about voodoo medicine and malpractice, but you've been quiet."

"There had not been a lot of people to talk to."

"Yeah," John drawled, "most of us are pretty torn. You seem like a nice enough guy, but you are holding our resident genius hostage in his own body. That makes it a bit hard to be buddies."

Durand opened his eyes, turning his head toward John. "So you claim."

The man shrugged, leaning against the edge of the bed, arms crossed. "I'd show you a mirror, but last time that sorta freaked you out a bit." He suddenly looked curious, and a little desperate. "You can't feel him in there at all? He said, when you let him out to play for a bit, that it was like being trapped in a small dark room, with no air and no way out."

"Feel who?"

"Rodney. He's the guy banging on the inside of your head trying to get out."

"No," Durand said, offering a half smile. "It's actually been quite…peaceful in here. Thanks for asking."

John sighed. "He's claustrophobic."

Durand narrowed his eyes. "And this matters to me, why?"

He shrugged. "Why not? You said you wanted conversation."

"And yet you keep bringing up subjects that don't concern me."

"Okay, how about one a little closer to home? You fought them, fought the programming. We found records suggesting they hauled you back in to the lab at least three or four times kicking and screaming."

Durand glanced away, the memory flashing in his mind. "Is that what this is all about? That I did something wrong?"

"Wrong? Trust me, if someone was screwing with my head, I'd be kicking and screaming, too."

"It was always my fault, my fault that it slid, slipped." He paused, tugging at his restraints remembering the last time it happened. It had hurt, just like the first time, but more. Ten times more. He turned his head back, trying to explain. "They tried to help me."

Sheppard shook his head. "They weren't trying to help you, they were trying to break you."

"Nononono," he shook his head, trying to gesture with his trapped hands. "They were trying to fix me, make me better, stronger. After the…" He took a breath. "You're just trying to turn me against them, but you're wrong."

"Want to hear some of the things we found in their notes? 'The stupid bastard won't just accept his fate as a pawn' was about the mildest I saw. And on one of your colleague's files, someone wrote that you were too stupid to live and should be immediately terminated so as not to waste any further resources."

"No…nononono. That can't be true." He turned away, closing his eyes. He knew them. Trusted them. They trusted him.

"They didn't trust you, Durand. If they did, do you really think they would have used radical brain-altering therapies to bend you to their will? Come on, does that sound like trust?"

He turned back to John, his eyes blazing. "And I can trust you? You almost killed me!"

One eyebrow went up. "Okay, I could have shot you at any point and I didn't. I tried to force you to eat a damn PowerBar when I realized what was going on. I even gave you my jacket even though it was freezing out there, and made sure you didn't bang your head on the table. I made sure you got back here fast enough to get treatment, and spent several hours worrying I hadn't been fast enough. But yeah, somehow that all translates to trying to kill you. Sorry if the logic of that escapes me at the moment."

"I don't know what you did to me, what you gave me, but nothing like that has ever happened to me before. Is that how you managed to take Atlantis? Am I the last one? Am I the only one you haven’t killed yet?" He paused, narrowing his eyes at John. "And whatever you think you did was probably just to have another go at me, whatever it is you're trying to find out or get from me."

"Yeah, and you've never felt anything like that before because—survey says—because you're in another man's body! Ding ding ding. Now I win the prize." John shook his head. "Look this obviously isn't getting us anywhere and will only piss us both off. Why don't we try a new topic? What would you do if, hypothetically speaking, this burning desire to complete a project and blow up Atlantis was to suddenly disappear?"

This man was nothing but unpredictable. "That wouldn't happen. It couldn't. I have a job to do. It's very important. I—"

"I said hypothetically. Sheesh. Don't get your knickers, as Carson would say, in a bind." He looked at Durand thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay, you're having some trust issues, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and try trusting you a bit. Think you can handle that?"

Durand felt his forehead furrowing. "What do you mean?"

He stared at him for a moment before responding. "We found blueprints and notes for a device that was supposed to reverse the programming, but it was never built, apparently because it was easier to kill a scientist when they were finished with him than give him back his life. Go figure. Anyway, Radek might, and I stress might here, be able to build it from what we have, and if he can Carson can probably figure out how to use it."

"Reverse? Nononononono," he said, panicking a little. "It can't be done. It can't."

"Maybe you're right. They never actually built or tested one, so it might not work. But we thought we'd try."

"Why? Why waste your time on something that's not going to work, that could never work, that couldn't possibly ever work, that—"

"Why not? What do you have to lose? I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're strapped to a bed at the moment in a stolen body. If it works, great, you get your mind back and then we can have a conversation that doesn't keep looping back on itself. And if not, at least we tried."

"Lose! You can lose everything! Everything we worked so hard to discover, to uncover, to experiment with." Durand's eyes were wide, his breath rough as he tugged and pulled to get his arms free. He didn't understand. Everything could be lost forever.

"Really, we'd lose everything by letting you actually think with your own mind and trusting you a little, instead of ramming something down your throat and forcing you to work how we want you to? Somehow that doesn't seem like losing to me. In fact, the best innovations, the most spectacular results, tend to happen when a brilliant mind is allowed to actually be brilliant, wouldn't you say?"

"No. You need a controlled environment. You need to have procedures and protocols." He paused, glancing around the otherwise empty room. "But you can't understand. You're not a scientist."

John shrugged. "Nope, I'm a soldier. And I totally understand rules and regulations trust me. But procedures and controlled environment is one thing. Its something else when someone tries to make you think how they want you to, react how they want you to. That's not procedure, that's slavery."

"You need control for anything to work right," Durand said, his voice quiet, his eyes focused on the far wall. "Without precise control things…change."

John snorted. "You seem to be confusing 'control' with 'evil person warping your brain.' Those are two different things."

"No," Durand insisted, his voice level. "Control is required. Necessary."

John just shrugged. "Whatever. After we unfry your mind, maybe you'll feel differently."

Durand turned, narrowing his eyes a little, studying the soldier standing beside the bed. "If one of your men decided to do things their way, how would that affect the rest of your…team?"

"I already told you, we have rules and regulations, and I have a healthy respect for them, even if I do break them half the time. But I trust my men to follow orders and yes, even think about them and say something if they disagree. I want to know if someone thinks something is a bad idea and why, cause they might see something I missed. Even if the order stands, at least I know we covered all the bases."

"But if they…disagree repeatedly and disregard your orders, what happens?"

John looked past him, his face going totally blank for a moment. "They get disciplined, are sent to fucking Antarctica, and get resigned to living the rest of their lives with that hanging over their head."

"Would it not be better to have someone who you can think independently, but who is also striving for the same goal? Whose actions you can…predict?"

"No. If that was the case, good men would be dead. Stupid orders are stupid, and sometimes they need to be disobeyed."

Durand shook his head. "My words mean nothing to you I see." He paused, hearing the man beside him shift, but remain silent. He turned, catching John's eyes, holding his gaze. "But you must understand. Even if I had…doubts…they gave me structure, meaning…family, when I had none. They gave me a greater purpose, a way to accomplish something great."

John refocused, his eyes intent. "Oh, I understand better than you think. And I know a lot of people, even ones who aren't brainwashed, who would agree with you. They would rather have mindless drones happy to work and die on command than real people. But you know what? The only people I know who ever accomplished anything worthy of being called great knew the value of independent thought and freedom."

Durand shrugged as much as the restraints allowed. "Then you knew the wrong people, John."

John looked up at a cough from across the room, and nodded his head to a nurse standing in the doorway. Then he turned back to Durand. "Look, I don't really know how much of this is what you really think, and how much is what they wanted you to think. If I had to guess, probably some of both. I'm going to go back up to the labs now, and if luck is on our side, next time we talk there won't be any programming to get in the way at all."

Durand watched as John walked away, knowing what he planned, what he was trying to do. Before he reached the door, though, he called out, not sure why, exactly. "John?"

The soldier stopped, turned around. "Yes?"

He took a breath and discovered he was shaking. "Don't…" He paused, trying to get a breath. "I don't want to die."

John looked at him for a long time before he responded. "Durand, I don't ever leave a man behind, not if there's anything I can do to prevent it."

He nodded once, before turning his head away and closing his eyes, listening as the soldier was led out of the room, leaving him once again with his own thoughts and the silence.

***

Carson put his head down on his arms, needing a break. They had been at it for hours, the only breaks the quick trips down to the infirmary for the drugs that kept him going. Doctor Biro had already warned him she wouldn’t give him any more today. He heard Sheppard snoring lightly in the corner. He had finally fallen asleep right after the last run, and Carson was in no hurry to wake him. The man needed sleep badly, not to mention he should have turned in for the night hours ago. He was a bit surprised no one had come looking for him, but they were busy, and had probably forgotten for the moment.

He heard Radek’s typing, the steady rhythm starting to lull him a bit. The man was seemingly tireless, still going strong despite the fact that it was almost two in the morning.

They were getting closer. The last time they had updated each other, Radek had been close, nearly ready to build a prototype. He was trying to locate all the components they would need, scouring the database for devices that might be useful for parts.

Carson was pretty sure he knew now what it was supposed to do, and how it worked. It would require the gene, which meant it would probably have to be himself or John that used it. He would fight that battle when it became necessary.

"Carson?" Teyla's voice was quiet, her hand light on his shoulder. "Should you not be in bed?"

He jumped, not having heard her come in. "Teyla, lass, what are you still doing up? You need to get some sleep."

"As do you," she said, smiling gently. "With a few hours of sleep you will feel better."

"I'll be all right." He returned her smile. "We're getting closer to having something that might work. I want to be here."

"Have you not spoken to Doctor McKay of the dangers of working while not getting sufficient rest? Elizabeth is speaking to Doctor Zelenka as well," she said, indicating a similar conversation occurring a little ways away. Ronon had managed to get Sheppard on his feet, the half-asleep man moving only because of the Satedan's insistence.

Carson eyed the Colonel for a moment, hoping he stayed half-asleep and unaware of the time. Then he sighed. "Aye, I know you're right, but..."

"But you must rest."

He looked at the screen, the words blurring before his eyes. "Rodney doesn't get to take a break. He would'na stop if it was one of us."

"Yes, he would," she argued, her words kind. "You would make sure he rested, even if it were for a few hours. You are a good friend to him and he needs you to be alert and awake to rescue him."

Guilt made him jerk a bit at her words, since him attempting to drug Rodney to force him to rest was what had started this whole mess. "I..."

"Rest, please. He would want you to."

He gave in, knowing she was right. "Lass, I... My quarters. They're close to the infirmary. Can we go there?"

Teyla smiled, helping him to his feet. "Doctor Zelenka and Colonel Sheppard are also going to their quarters. It is more…restful than a cot in the labs or a bed in the infirmary. Doctor Biro agreed."

"Thank God..." He suddenly blushed; he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

She chuckled lightly, propelling him forward while keeping a firm grip on his arm. Sheppard was complaining about being manhandled, but Ronon ignored him, his low, rough voice as he grumbled a response.

He stumbled slightly, pleased to note that his legs were at least holding him, even though he was leaning on Teyla heavily. The lass was stronger than she looked. As he let himself be ushered out, he suddenly remembered Ronon and stopped short. "Oh my god. How is Ronon? His stitches... I have'na even checked on him..."

"He is fine. Your staff has made sure he is well taken care of. Now, hush."

"No, I should have... I can't believe I..."

"He is fine," she repeated, her voice strong. They stepped into the transporter alcove and moments later were in the wing of Atlantis that held their sleeping quarters.

He slumped, unable to respond. He let her lead him to his room, his mind suddenly whirling. What kind of doctor was he, to just forget a patient like that?

"And Doctor McKay is more…important right now. Ronon does not feel slighted," she said as she deposited him on his bed.

"Nae..." He stared off into space. How could he have let this happen? He really wasn't fit for this position was he? Not if he forgot his patients, forgot to even ask how they were doing...

"If you are still…concerned, speak to Ronon in the morning. I am sure he will explain it to you personally. Until then," she said, reaching the door. "Sleep well."

He closed his eyes, managing a nod and a weak smile as he leaned back in bed. He would fix his mistake with Rodney, then... Well, then he would see.

***

Radek had finally kicked everyone but essential personnel out of the lab hours ago. Essential included Carson, Radek himself, and Sheppard because no amount of swearing in Czech had made the man leave.

Carson was still tired—they had all gotten about four hours of sleep before making their way back to the device. Doctor Biro had cornered him this morning, pleased to see he was at least mobile on his own without drugs. Though truth be known he would have preferred to have them, since they helped with the weariness, but he wasn’t about to ask. After a full exam and warnings that he would, under pains of death, report to her for checkups at least a few times throughout the day, she had cleared him to work with Radek.

He had run into Ronon coming out of his own exam, and had nearly managed to get out before the other man noticed him. But apparently he was a lot more observant than he let on—or he had heard Carson the night before when they had been carted off to bed—and hadn’t let him get away without making it clear he was okay with the whole situation. All fine and dandy he was okay with it, which did make Carson breathe a little easier. It did not, however, do anything for his guilt at forgetting the man, but no one else had to know that.

A sudden exclamation made him look up, and he saw Sheppard standing up from the wall he had been leaning against.

"I think Radek might be done," the Colonel drawled, his chin indicating the Czech.

"Aye, that sounded like happy gibberish, not frustrated gibberish."

Sheppard smiled and nodded, shoving off the wall to approach the scientist, who glanced up even before they were close.

"It is done."

Carson pushed himself up and made his way to join the other two staring down at the device on the table. "All right, we know someone with the gene has to work it. Once we verify that it’s operational, we can go test it." He reached out as he spoke, grabbing for the tiny device.

Radek glared at him.

Carson hesitated. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can turn it on, then going down to the infirmary."

"No," Sheppard cut in. "I'll be the one turning anything on that needs turning on, especially strange new devices."

"You have'na spent the last twenty-four hours learning how to use the thing, Colonel. I'll have a good idea about how it's supposed to work."

"Which is why you'll walk me through it and then fix me in case it manages to break something." Sheppard glared at him, his hands on his hips.

"Nae." His brogue was getting stronger as he got more irritated. "I did the work, I'm the one with the degree in this field. I'm the one who's gonna use the damn thing."

"And if it breaks you? No. Absolutely not."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "You din'na trust Radek not to create something that will backfire?"

"Nothing Ancient has ever worked exactly as we expected and I need to make sure you're in one piece so you can fix Rodney." He paused, drawing a hand over his face. "And I think you're going to need all of your strength to do that."

"All the more reason I should have an idea of how it feels, how it works in practice rather than theory. I understand, Colonel, I do, but I will'na have my first test be on a live patient, and we don't know how many times this thing can be used before it runs out of power."

"Beckett—"

He set his jaw, not willing to give in on this one. "It has to be me."

"Do I not get say in this?" Radek asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two arguing men.

"No. You din'na have the gene, and you din'na have a medical degree either."

Radek narrowed his eyes. "Then perhaps I should mention that it is already keyed to a specific individual."

Carson felt his head whip around, and was advancing on the scientist before he realized what he was doing. "Who?"

Radek stood his ground. "I happen to agree with Colonel Sheppard, however, I was forced to…cobble together this device from technology we already had on hand, including a small sensor. I did not believe we had the time to create a key from scratch."

"Who?"

Radek sighed, looking at Beckett. "You."

He slumped, relieved. "Thank God."

Sheppard looked angry. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

Radek shrugged. "Perhaps it is because you did not permit me to."

"It doesn't matter. I was'na going to let you use it anyway." He moved back to the table, picking the device up. For what it was supposed to do, it seemed far too small.

"Careful," Radek said, stepping alongside. "I do not know what it might do if you accidentally set it off on someone…not programmed."

"Trust me, I don't plan to make any more mistakes," he said absently, as he examined it, going over all the notes he had found in his head before he attempted to turn it on.

"Beckett?" Sheppard was at his side, glancing down at him, an unidentified expression on his face.

"Hmmm?" He wasn't paying much attention to them. Turning it over, he found the small switch he had seen in the diagram—the "on" button so to speak.

"Do you actually know what you're doing?"

He pointed the thing at the table, making sure there wasn't anything important that could be damaged if something went wrong. "What? Hang on." He flipped the switch and gave the mental command to start up, gratified when tiny lights appeared on top.

"Beckett…" Sheppard growled, the tone full of warning.

Satisfied that it was doing something, and hoping it was doing what they wanted it to. He told it to power down, and flipped the switch to make sure he didn't do anything accidentally. Then he looked up, a bit surprised by the Colonel's expression. "What's wrong?"

Sheppard shook his head, muttering something about stubborn doctors under his breath. "Will this work?"

"It's doing something. The only way to know for sure now is to try it." He looked at John carefully. "Did you get enough sleep last night lad? You look a bit out of sorts."

"Just worried. Whatever we do, it's to Rodney's body."

Carson closed his eyes, fear and guilt flickering across his face briefly. "Aye. But we can'na do anything until Durand stops trying to finish this device of his. I can'na do anything for Rodney until we deal with that."

"I know. It's just that every time I look at him….but then I talk to him…" Sheppard shook his head.

"He wasn't an evil man. I...I don't think I can simply kill him off, even if there was a way to do it. Although it is just plain eerie to hear those words coming out of Rodney's mouth, without any of his usual sarcasm or wild gestures."

"Yes," Sheppard nodded. "Sometimes it sounds exactly like him, but other times…" He sighed. "Are we ready to get the show on the road? And does Biro need to know we're coming? Durand got pretty upset when I mentioned the possibility of reversing the whole 'one-track mentality' persona he has going."

"Let's not postpone this any longer than necessary. You can brief Lindsay while I explain what's going to happen to Durand. It would'na surprise me if the programming tries to protect itself, so expect him to panic. I'll do this as quickly as I can to spare him as much pain as possible."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sheppard asked. "Can't we…I don't know, knock him out?"

"No. I want to tell him what's coming. He might fight it at first, but once the hold of the program starts to break, he may be able to fight it, help its demise along. We already know he managed to break it on his own a few times. Once I give him a few cracks, he might well break the whole thing without any extra help."

"Then let's get this show on the road."

***

Durand knew something was happening. It was hard to ignore the "hit you over the head" signs.

Two of the largest orderlies had entered a while ago, not long after he'd finally fallen asleep, and had gotten to work re-arranging everything in the room—loudly. Doctor Biro entered not long after, removing the feeding tube she'd inserted the day before and sliding a little something extra in to the IV line without offering any explanation.

Something was going on.

The orderlies finally turned their attention to him, loosening the chest restraint and lowering the head of the bed until it was completely flat—even removing the sorry excuse of a pillow. Everything was tightened down and adjusted once again, a final restraint over his knees finishing off things.

But through it all, no one would answer his questions or even acknowledge him in any way which only made his anxiety skyrocket.

What was going on?

He heard them enter, the sound of several people—shuffling feet, rustling clothing, the low hush of conversation—echoing in the large, cavernous room. He could barely see the door from where he was, could only listen and wait.

He wasn't surprised to see Becektt and John finally edge into his view, both wearing serious expressions. There were others behind them—he spotted the man with wildly unruly hair just beyond John's shoulder—but knew there were others.

He locked his gaze with John, letting the man see his terror, his fear. "You promised."

John reached out and patted his hand awkwardly. "We aren't going to kill you or hurt you. If this works they way we hope it will, it should allow us to give you a little more freedom of movement."

"No one will tell me what's happening," he said, his nervousness speeding up his thoughts, his speech, even with the drugs. He tugged at the restraints needing to get away.

Carson laid the back of his hand on Durand's forehead, his voice soothing. "That's what I'm here for." He held up a small device with his other hand. "John already told you we found the plans for a machine to reverse the programming they put you though. Radek," He gestured towards the wild-haired man, "managed to put one together. I...don't like a first test of any equipment to be on a live patient, but in this case we don't have much choice. I don't know if it will hurt. I promise if there's anything I can do to prevent pain, I will. That's why we gave you a light sedative, if there is pain, hopefully that will dull it a bit."

"Reverse? Wait! Nononononononononono," he said, pulling now, trying to get out, get away, his eyes wide. "You can't! It's not possible! You can't!" His voice was rising, both in volume and pitch, edging toward hysteria. "You can't do that! John," he said shifting his gaze to the soldier, "you promised me! You promised!"

John flinched. “I promised we’d do what we can to help you. I think, I hope, you’ll agree once your mind is free of the blasted programming, that this is the best thing we could do.”

Carson swallowed hard, then did something to the device, making lights come on. He reached over, aiming it at Durand. “Here goes nothing.”

It hurt.

Oh, God, did it hurt.

He could feel it in his muscles, his bones right to the marrow. He knew he screamed; he could feel the strain on his throat, the raw, rough edges.

Even as his body protested, muscles locking, convulsing, he could hear them in the distance, could hear the voice in his head that kept him from falling completely apart, the one that unlocked his mind and let everything out.

He sobbed when the pain finally released him. "Oh, God," he whispered, his body still shaking as darkness descended.

***

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” Carson wasn’t aware that he was speaking out loud, as he backed away from the bed. The screaming had stopped when Durand passed out, and Carson let the device fall from his fingers. He didn’t even know if it had worked.

"Carson? Beckett?" Sheppard's hands were on his shoulders, holding him, shaking him slightly.

"Oh my god oh my god..." What had he done? What if they had made a mistake and this killed both Durand and Rodney?

"Beckett, snap out of it! Did it work? What the hell just happened? Biro! Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

He felt his legs give out, he couldn't stand any more. "I don't know, I don't know if it worked. I felt that he was in pain... oh my god the pain..."

"Biro's checking him out now. He's breathing. He just looks like he's out cold," Sheppard said, easing him into a chair, his hands never leaving his upper arms. "Are you okay?"

He was alive. He hadn't killed him. He felt the shudders wracking his body and he didn't have the energy to try and stop them. "As soon as I turned it on, I could feel... not his pain, but that he was in...it was like I was ripping open his mind...."

"Carson?" John asked, worry and something else in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do that again, if I can do that to someone... I had to tear his mind apart to put it back together. Colonel, if it didn't work I don't think..." He put his head down in his hands.

"You might not have to," Biro said quietly. "He's coming around."

"Oh god..." He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to pull it together.

He could hear Durand groaning as he came around, the bed squeaking a little as he moved. "Ugh."

Pushing himself up, Carson took another deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever might happen next. He hoped. "Durand? Lad, how are you feeling?"

"Don't" he said, one eye opening, his voice quiet, but his tone was unmistakable, "do that again. Please."

Carson shuddered again. "Believe me, I very much hope I never have to do anything like that ever again to anyone."

"Good," he said, closing his eye and taking a shuddering breath.

Carson fell back on old habits, needing to do something. He gently wrapped his hand around Durand’s wrist, counting the heartbeats. He really hadn't killed him.

"So?" Sheppard asked finally, quietly.

Carson released Durand's wrist slowly, reluctant to ask, since he was terrified it hadn't worked. "Other than the pain, how are you feeling?" He asked carefully.

It took a minute before Durand answered, turning his head to the side and opening his eyes. Carson could still see the pain at the edges. "Okay, I think."

"Any urges to go work on projects or harm Atlantis?"

Durand closed his eyes and nearly a minute passed before he opened them once again. "While I would like to do something to break up the sheer boredom of the last few days…I don't think…the pain to go and finish isn't there." He paused again, forehead creasing a little. "It's sore. I know something's gone, but…"

"Oh, thank god..." Carson sagged a bit against the bed before composing himself again. "Then that's enough for now. Let Lindsay give you something to help with the pain. Anything else can wait until you feel a bit better."

"Can I get up?"

Sheppard coughed to get both men's attention. "One thing at a time, all right? You say you don't feel the urge to hurt my city or my people any more, but I have to be sure." He looked apologetic. "Tell you what though, promise to be good, and I'll have Biro remove the chest and knee straps, and loosen the others so you can move a bit. Once I'm sure you aren't an immediate risk, I'll authorize a bit more freedom. Not to mention we still need to have a long chat about Rodney and what we're going to do about this. Deal?"

Durand nodded slowly, his voice still quiet, rough. "Okay."

The Colonel nodded to Biro, and several orderlies came in to make Durand more comfortable.

Carson closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet, efficient work. They were one step closer to getting Rodney back. One step closer to this whole thing being over. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Durand watching him. “I…I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”

"You're not the first and you won't be the last," Durand said quietly, his eyes turning to focus on the ceiling as the medics worked around him.

"That doesn't make it okay. They didn't have the right to hurt you in the first place and I... If I had known how much pain it would cause, I'm not sure I would have used it."

He shrugged, the loosening of the bond giving him a little more room to move. "You meant well, I know that. I'm used to the pain."

Carson shook his head. "Nae, that's not how it's supposed to work. Doctors are supposed to ease pain, not cause it, no matter how well meaning. No one should have to 'get used to' pain."

Durand shrugged again, not answering.

Carson let out a long sigh, reaching over to squeeze Durand's shoulder lightly. Looking up, he saw Doctor Biro with a syringe, and knew it was the pain medication. "Lad, we're going to give you something to help you rest. It will make you sleep, and in a few hours we can talk more."

He nodded, closing his eyes, his body slumping deeper into the mattress, the muscles finally relaxing as the medicine reached him. A long, shuddering breath and Durand was asleep.

Carson stared at him for a moment, suddenly very tired. He knew he should go get some rest, but found he didn't have the will to move at the moment. Raising his eyes, he caught Sheppard's gaze. "This was a step forward I suppose."

The Colonel nodded, face thoughtful. "We should probably figure out what we plan to do next. We can't leave him in there."

"I know." He let his eyes drift back to Durand's—Rodney's—face. "Maybe now that he isn't so driven, we can reason with him, find a way to get him out without killing them both."

"Whatever we suggest…" Sheppard trailed off. He grabbed Carson's arm, propelling him out of the isolation room and into the hallway. Once there, he finally continued. "We're going to have to kill him—no matter which way we look at it, whatever we do. He can't stay. God only knows how long Rodney can stay alive in there the way he is…"

Carson froze, his eyes wide. "I can't... You... No, please don't make me..." He took a deep breath. "Colonel, there has to be a way. We can't just kill him. Not in Rodney's body, no, but there has to be something..."

"What other choice do we have? Think about it. He's not going to leave voluntarily. He doesn't want to die. He'd going to hang in there for as long and as hard as he can." Sheppard wiped a hand across his face. "I…my first priority is getting McKay back."

"Yes, I agree, we have to focus on Rodney, but Colonel... Look, he was already in a device once, right, maybe we can find a way to move him back into something, at least until I can find another alternative." He let John see the pain and fear in his eyes. "Please, I can't kill someone deliberately, lie to him like that."

"I know," Sheppard said, his hand on Carson's shoulder. "I won't ask you to lie to him, but you have to understand the stakes, our priorities." He paused. "Elizabeth agrees."

Carson managed to get to a chair before he collapsed. He put his head in his hands, hating this, hating what they were putting on him. He either found a way to save both men's lives quickly, or they would kill one to save the other. He wanted to cry, to scream about the unfairness of it all, but he couldn't find the words.

Sheppard stayed by his side for another minute before stepping away, his footfalls headed down the hallway.

He couldn't look up, couldn't look at anyone. He was aware that he whimpered slightly, but he couldn't help it. After a few more moments, he pushed himself up, eyes locked on the ground as he headed for his lab. He didn't have much time before Sheppard would have Radek find a more drastic method. He didn't have any time to waste.

***

Durand was thoroughly, absolutely, positively bored.

He'd woken up an hour or so ago—the bed raised once again, the pillow back behind his head—staring blearily into an empty room.

It was strange. While he didn't feel the all-encompassing need to work, he would have liked to do something, anything really, even if it was simply to take a walk through Atlantis again. It had been months since he'd been back to the city and he wished that he could see her, talk to her again, to let the cool comfort glide over him once again.

Here, in the isolation room, he was cut off—and for good reason.

He remembered when some of them had gone mad because of the disease; remembered their screams, their begging when the shield had been turned on, severing their connection with the city. The destruction on the city had finally stopped, but their voices he'd always carry with him.

Just like his wife's.

God, how he'd loved her, even more than his work. He hadn't thought it possible, but she'd found him, loved him, given him something that he never knew he didn't have.

But now, he was alone again and it hurt more than he remembered.

He heard the door slide open and John entered, approaching slowly, a tall man remaining at the doorway, arms at his side, hand hovering over his weapon.

"John?" he asked, his voice still weak, throat sore and raw.

"Hey there. How ya feeling?"

"As good as can be, I imagine," he said shrugging, his gaze lingering on the other man before focusing on the soldier who'd stopped next to the bed, one hip against the side, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, Biro gave you the good drugs. She doesn't just break those out for anyone."

"What's with your friend?"

John glanced back, a slight smile curling his lips. "That's Ronon. He's pretty fond of Rodney in a non-expressive sort of way, and we've had to ban him from coming in here before since we didn't want him to do anything hasty. I only agreed to let him come see Rodney —you—if I was with him to prevent accidents."

"Accidents?" Durand could feel his eyes widening. "But….what…"

"Ronon can be a bit trigger-happy. He was a Runner for seven years before we met him, so he can be jumpy sometimes. 'Diplomacy' doesn't seem to be in his vocabulary."

"I heard that, Sheppard." Ronon growled from across the room.

Durand's eyes drifted back to the Runner, Ronon, before turning back to John. "What are you going to do with me?"

John let out a sigh, the glint of humor disappearing. "Well, that's up to you. Carson is working himself to death trying to find a way to separate you from Rodney without hurting either of you. In fact, that's why I'm here. Now that you can think straight, I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

"For what? I…I don't understand."

"Well, you managed to get yourself out of your body once, think you can do it again, this time without death needing to be involved?"

“Ascension.” Carson pushed past Ronon into the room as John’s voice trailed off, his eyes tired. “Durand, how much do you know about Ascension?”

Durand shook his head. "I was never one for that…" He wiggled his fingers. "Ascension is not for everyone. I'm more of a…physical person. It's hard to explain."

“Right now you’re a voice in McKay’s head.” Ronon glared at him from across the room.

Carson shot the man a look, then turned back. “It might be the best way to keep both of you alive and functioning. Hypothetically speaking, if you ascended, your consciousness would leave the body behind. Ordinarily, from what I’ve seen the body would be absorbed in some way. But in this case, there is another consciousness left behind—Rodney. Once you had ascended, he would regain control of his body again. I think.”

"But, why? I'm content here. There's nothing wrong. No disease. No problems—apart from some healing wounds of course. There is much I can do."

Carson held a hand up to silence John before the man could say anything. "Would you have that at the cost of someone else's life? If you stay in that body, only one of you can live. If we find a way to help you ascend—and I have Radek scouring the database for anything that might help—you can both live."

"No," Durand whimpered slightly, his eyes refusing to look at anyone. The thought of killing…he couldn't. What would Nydia think of him? But then, she wouldn't think anything, would she. She hadn't Ascended. She couldn't, wouldn't. She was gone. They were all gone, he knew, the memories all flowing back, the explanations, the words, the voices, the face in the mirror.

They were right. He should be dead. Should have died, but instead he was trapped. And through his own life he was killing someone else.

He was the cause.

He felt someone shaking his arm, calling his name. He tried to close it off, tried to ignore it, but it was insistent, the voice familiar.

"Durand, lad, open your eyes. It's okay. Please, I need you with me here."

"I can't…" he said, clutching at the hand he could feel near his own. "No, don't let me be the cause of….I can't. Please." He took a breath, feeling it catch in his throat. He opened his eyes, locking his gaze with Carson's. "I don't know how to let go, but I can't…I’m sorry. I…just…I don't know."

Carson's eyes were both desperate and relieved. "Aye, it's all right. I think Ascension would be the safest way, but Radek has a few other ideas if you don't feel up to it." He squeezed Durand's hand. "Just take a few deep breaths. No one here is blaming you for anything, and none of this is your fault. We'll figure something out, if we all stay calm and keep our wits about us."

"I hate this," he whispered, turning his head, not wanting them to see him, wishing he could hide.

"I know, lad. But we'll find a way to fix it soon." He could hear a noise as Carson turned slightly, although he didn't let go of Durand's hand. "Colonel, could you and Ronon give us a minute?" When the footsteps receded, another hand came up to pat Durand's arm. "We're alone, take as much time as you need."

"I'm sorry," he said, turning his head, trying to meet his eyes, but finding it hard. They all must hate him. "I'm sorry for what I've done. I wish I can make it right, but I…can't. I don't know how."

The hand on his arm moved to grip his face, forcing him to look Carson in the eye. "This is not your fault. You cannot be blamed for the actions of others, and no one here does. We're angry, yes, but not at you—we hate the situation, the people who decided it was better to hurt you than ask for your help."

"But they did ask. Don't you understand? They asked and I said no. I…they said they needed me, but what they wanted was…" He tried to turn away, but couldn't, Carson's hand keeping him in place. "Maybe if I'd said yes when they asked the first time…"

"No. Giving up your life to tyrants is never the right way, and you were incredibly brave for resisting. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

"But it is. If it weren't for me you'd still have your friend and I'd just be a footnote in someone's report, my name logged in a database somewhere." He swallowed thickly. "And maybe I'd be remembered for something other than the monster I've become." Durand paused, blinking, trying to clear his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I think I need to be alone."

"Nae, I won't leave you here to wallow, to convince yourself you're a monster when you aren't. You won't be remembered that way, but as a very intelligent young man who was abused by people with power. Rodney is still in there—not happy I'll grant you, and probably desperate to get out—but I'd like to think you and I have become friends too. Help me find a way to save you both, to give you both a second chance."

Durand shook his head. "I'm not so sure."

"I am." He offered a hesitant smile. "And I'm a doctor, so we always get the last word."

"Your friend, he was a doctor too?"

Carson chuckled. "Aye, he was, but of a different persuasion. Where we come from, anyone who earns a high enough degree is called a doctor, but only those of us who have medical degrees practice medicine. Don't tell him I said that though. He's very proud of all his accomplishments."

"I don't think I can…tell him." Durand frowned, his eyes sliding away.

Carson immediately looked worried, squeezing Durand's hand. "I'm sorry, lad. I didn't mean to upset you. It was a figure of speech, and a poor attempt at a joke."

"No…" He shook his head again, the movement slight, quick.

Carson sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I suppose I don't really think of you as one person, one body, and that's something I would have said to anyone."

"I…I know what I told you before…about…Rodney."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about anything from before. That bloody programming had you all turned around."

"But I lied."

"Aye, I'm sure you did," Carson let out another sigh. "From what I was able to piece together, your brain was looping back, trying to find anything that might work to let you get back to your project."

"But, I told you I didn't hear him. But I did. At least at first. I couldn't…didn't want to believe that you could be right…that this might have happened." Durand turned his head, closing his eyes. He could feel his heart—Rodney's heart speeding up—none of this was his.

"It's all right. At the time, there was nothing you could have done. What about now though, can you still hear him at all?"

"No. Nothing at all." He turned back to Carson, his eyes wide with fear and panic. "Oh, God, I killed him, didn't I?"

"Deep breaths, lad. Remember, keep your wits about you. We know Rodney was still there a while back, when you had an attack he managed to emerge for a moment. Not to mention, that sort of thing would be bloody traumatic, and I'm sure you would have felt it physically, if not mentally. Rodney is...claustrophobic though, and prone to panic attacks himself. It's very possible he shut himself into a small corner of your mind and is waiting for a chance to come out. That's why I haven't asked you to try and give up control. When he does come out, he will fight not to go back, and I want to save you both, not just one of you."

"But I don't feel him at all. Shouldn't I be able to?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. I've dealt with double personalities before—Rodney actually carried another Marine in his head for a few days and we couldn't get them to stop arguing—but never something like this." Carson suddenly sat straight up. "Oh my god. What about that? We still have the Wraith technology from when we shot down the dart that culled Rodney and Cadman. If we could use it to separate you..."

"Wraith?" Durand tried to straighten. "Where? They're here? I have to get out." He tugged at the restraints. "Let me out, please. I can't stay here."

"No no, not here at the moment. This was quite some time back. We were off-world, and a few Wraith darts came through the gate. One managed to cull Rodney and Cadman, but it was shot down before it could leave again. We brought it back here and managed to get everything sorted out. Please, Durand, stay calm. You are quite a bit better at this science stuff, and I need your help."

"Help?"

Carson gave him a long look, and seemed to come to some decision. "Aye...Durand, would you be willing to help find a solution? You are a scientist, and you have a better understanding of the technology than any us could ever hope to have."

"But what if something else happens? I don't want…can't be responsible for anything else, any other…"

"I trust you."

"But—" Durand broke off, looking away. He took a deep breath before turning his head back. "But why? I've done nothing to…earn your trust."

"Why should you have to earn it? I give trust freely lad, until someone does something to make me revise my original opinion. And you have done nothing to make me not trust you."

"I…I haven't? But your friend—"

"My friend Rodney is in a bad situation yes, but it not though any fault of my friend Durand."

His eyes widened and he nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd like to…help, if I can."

Carson broke out in a big, wide smile. "Good. Let me clear it with the Colonel, then we can go to work." He rose, squeezing Durand's hand a final time before starting for the door.

Durand watched Carson leave, confusion and hope filling him. No one had ever trusted him before. He didn't want to screw this up.

***

Carson stepped out of the isolation room, not noticing that the door didn't close all the way behind him. He quickly spotted John and Ronon hovering, and walked over. "John, I need to bring Durand up to the labs. He can help Radek and I find a way to get him out of Rodney's body without killing either of them."

Sheppard let out a brief, sharp laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You sure that device didn't backfire on you?"

"I'm serious," he said, frowning. "Look, what happened before wasn't Durand, it was the program. He's different now, and he can help. Not only is he an Ancient, but he was the one who designed the original technology that caused this bloody mess. He's the best qualified to help."

"And he's a security risk. No, absolutely not. He's fine exactly where he is."

Carson's eyes narrowed. "I need his help, Colonel. I will find a way to save them both. The security risk was the program, not Durand, and we took care of that. Now we need to move on to the next problem, which is separating them."

"He doesn't even think there's a problem," he said, gesturing to the isolation room door. "How do you expect him to actually work on something this sensitive? No."

"What do you mean he doesn't think there's a bloody problem? He knows this isn't his body, he wants to help us save Rodney. I just spent the better part of an hour convincing him he hasn't killed our physicist, and this whole thing isn't his fault!"

"So he says. Let me guess, he wants to get out of the isolation room."

Carson could feel his blood pressure and his voice rising, several nurses stopping to stare, but he didn't care. "Nae! I'm the one who asked him to help! In fact, I had to convince him he could be useful, since he was terrified he'd make a mistake!"

Sheppard stepped away, taking several steps down the hallway, his hands on his hips. When he turned back around, his face was tight. "I can't just let him walk around Atlantis. I can't control him. We're still trying to fix the damage he left behind the last time he got out."

"How many bloody times do I have to tell you it was the program?" He stopped and took several deep breaths. Shouting at the Colonel didn't generally get great results. He forced his voice back into a more normal range. "He's a good man who was used by evil people, John. How would you feel if something like this happened to me? Or Radek? Or Rodney? If someone came along and made us believe we were your enemy, and then when the damage was undone, everyone refused to believe it wasn't us who had caused the problem in the first place?"

"This is different."

"It is'na any different and you know it."

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, his eyes sliding to Ronon. "You've been quiet through all of this."

Ronon shrugged. “I’m trigger happy, remember?”

Carson’s eyebrows shot up. “You aren’t shooting him!” His voice was starting to climb again.

Sheppard scowled at the Satedan before glancing back at Beckett. "He's trying to make a joke, a very bad one too." He pursed his lips as he held Carson's gaze. "I know you want him to help, that you think he can, but…I just don't know if I can trust him."

"Then trust me. I know what I'm doing, and I believe he can help. Not to mention, he hasn't given us any reason not to trust him. He wasn't," Carson glared at John to make sure he didn't try to interrupt, "the one who broke free before."

"And we still have one dead orderly and several injuries from that whole incident, or did you forget?"

Carson muttered several vehement curses in Gaelic. "Yes, I am well aware of what happened before. It's my bloody staff remember. But that wasn't Durand! That was the creature a few deranged Ancients on power trips tried to turn Durand into, but he isn't that man now."

Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest you stop being a bloody git and let me go save Rodney and Durand."

"And that's a plan if I ever heard one." His sarcasm was thicker than usual.

"Fine, then what do you suggest? And if it involves Durand staying here, full military escort, or shooting anything," he glared at Ronon, "I will personally knock you over the head and make sure you stay that way for the next week."

"That was going to be my suggestion."

Carson started looking around for heavy, blunt objects. "Try again."

Ronon shifted behind the Colonel, his hand hovering over his gun. Sheppard smiled humorlessly, glaring at Beckett. "Since you're the one with the brilliant ideas, why don't you suggest something?"

"I already did, and you decided to be a stubborn arse. And Ronon, if you even think of drawing that weapon, I can hit you over the head just as easily as I can Sheppard. I don't care if it's only set to stun, you aren't shooting anything."

"Fine," Sheppard said, shaking his head. "Let's get rid of the restraints. But he stays in that room. I'm not sure we should even give him an un-networked laptop."

"That does'na help. I need him upstairs in the labs with Radek and me. That's where we have access to the solutions." He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was giving him a headache, and he hadn't exactly been in tip-top shape when this started. He was absently watching Ronon fiddle with the gun, when he realized he was going to have to give a little. He didn't have to like it though.

“How about a compromise? Ronon’s bloody gun stays set to stun, and if—and I stress only if—things start exploding around the city, he can stun Durand and we bring him back here. I don’t bloody like it, since he’s having a hard time believing we trust him already, but we’re running out of time and options.”

"You don't understand, Beckett. It wasn't just the blowing things up I’m worried about. He can get into the Atlantis mainframe; I could feel it when he got out before. He could wipe it if he wanted and there's no way I can stop it."

"But he won't do that. I can't say he won't access it, since it's a far sight easier to let him find information instead of having Radek slog through translating as he goes. But he won't deliberately sabotage anything if that's what you’re worried about."

"You can't guarantee that."

"And I can't guarantee that we all won't drop dead tomorrow from food poisoning. I trust the cooks not to add arsenic to the food, and I trust Durand not to wipe the mainframe."

"This is ridiculous." Sheppard paced several steps away, brushing past Ronon.

"Aye, I agree. Stop walking around with your head up your arse. Not only will you look more dignified, we'd be a lot closer to having this whole thing solved already."

Sheppard turned, eyes flashing. "That was uncalled for."

Carson took a step back, realizing that antagonizing John Sheppard was probably not the wisest course of action. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his hold on his temper. "I'm sorry, you're right, I'm just angry. But, Colonel, you don't understand. I believe Rodney is starting to fade. He fought Durand for control at first, and now Durand can't even feel him. I don't think he's dead, but we all know Rodney. I need to get them separated soon, and I can't do that without Durand's help."

Sheppard's face fell a little, his own fear and worry coming through for a minute before the mask was back in place. "At the first sign of anything…untold—"

"Fine, I can live with that. And we'll make sure Durand knows that before he agrees. I don't want him doing something to help and getting jumped for it without knowing why." He let out a sigh, his anger leaving him. "I'm worried too, Colonel, but there are two lives at stake, not just one. Let me do what you brought me here for—save lives."

"Fine. I have to go and tell Elizabeth of the fine mess we're getting into," he said moving past Carson into the main corridor. Before he reached the end he paused and turned. "Ronon, if he even twitches…"

"Understood, Sheppard."

John was out of sight a moment later, leaving Carson standing in the small hallway with Ronon.

"At least try to give me some warning before you do anything, Ronon." Carson said as he headed back to the isolation room. "Durand can help, and he wants to help. Don't shoot him just because you aren't positive what he's doing."

"I know what to do."

Carson rolled his eyes, pushing open the door. He needed a vacation. A long one.

***

Durand listened.

Carson had left him, moving out into the hallway to talk to his colleagues and he'd heard every word. What little hope he'd had about the situation quickly faded with every passing minute.

They didn't trust him, never would.

They blamed him for everything, for killing, for taking their friend away.

He could take everything out of their hands, he knew, but that wasn't a choice, a possibility. And he was trapped. Whatever he did would just damage the body he was in.

And he couldn't…wouldn't…do that.

Trapped, just like before, exactly like before.

He whimpered, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the sounds of the argument just outside the door, tried to ignore the hatred and anger he heard.

And it was all because of him.

The touch on his arm startled him as he whipped his head around, eyes open wide.

"Durand, lad, are you okay?" Carson was there, his face concerned. "I had a...talk...with John, and while I don't agree with him, we found a compromise."

"I heard," he said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. "I…can't…"

Carson looked stunned, his eyes darting to the door before coming back to rest on Durand's face. Then he softened. "If you heard, then you know nothing has changed. I trust you lad, and John...well, he is a soldier and they are trained not to trust easily."

"Everything's changed."

"Nae, all that's different is that I almost got my bloody arse kicked and you heard it."

"Wh…what?"

"The Colonel gave serious thought into pounding me into the ground for fighting him on this. I told him to get his head out of his arse, and I thought he was going to hurt me." Carson looked at him quizzically. "If you heard, then you know I won. John agreed to let you help us up in the labs. Ronon here has orders to stun you," he glared at the large man hovering nearby, "if you try to make a break for it, but that isn't going to happen, so we won't even know he's there. We can send him out for coffee occasionally."

"He…he did?" Durand looked at Ronon, shifting a little on the bed even as Carson leaned his hand over the nearest wrist restraint.

"I'm going to loosen these now, take them off. What do you say we head upstairs and get this all fixed? And for the love of god Ronon, if you shoot him for no reason I will _invent_ new, painful tests to run on you."

Durand's eyes were wide, fixed firmly on the man before him. "You…really?"

Carson smiled at him. "Aye, lad, really. I told you, I trust you, and the Colonel trusts me—at least when he isn't contemplating my demise." He let the first wrist restraint slide free, then moved to the ankle on the same side. "Radek has been working through the database ever since this started, so he can brief us on what he has first, then the three of us can figure something out."

Durand slowly sat up and pulled his arm up toward his chest, his muscles aching from being restrained for such a long period of time. His leg he bent, hissing a little, but waved Carson on when he paused. He was watching Ronon out of the corner of his eye. The man never took his hand off his gun.

"What…what is he looking for?"

After Carson finished with the restraints, he laid a hand on Durand's shoulder. "Why don't you lay down and I'll take care of the rest of the tubes and wires?"

Durand nodded leaning back down and letting him work. A few minutes later and Carson was done already walking over to the wall where a few things had been pushed to the side. "Radek's been looking for anything he thinks might help, from notes on ascension to everything we know about wraith culling technology, to Stargate matter transfer, to random projects buried in the database that might in some way be useful."

As he talked, Durand returned to a seated position, pulling his legs up toward his chest and hugging his knees close. It felt good to move, to be able to sit up. For a while he never thought that he'd have this kind of freedom ever again.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, leaning his chin on his upraised knees.

A hand rested lightly on his arm. "Whenever you're ready. I'm sure you must be anxious to see something other than these walls. I know I would be going out of my mind by now with boredom."

He nodded, taking another breath before opening his eyes and uncurling. "Boredom hit a while ago," he said as he swung his legs over the edge, letting Carson take some of his weight as he helped into the wheeled chair. He slipped at one point and Ronon took several steps forward, gun raised and armed.

"Ronon, put your bloody gun down," Carson growled. "Or have you forgotten I wasn't much better twenty-four hours ago? The man's been tied to a bed, his muscles are weak. Now," he started wheeling them toward the door once Durand was settled, "let's get on with it, shall we?"

"Where are we going?" Durand asked, clutching his hands together in his lap as the scenery went by, his mind instinctively reaching out for the city once they were out of the shielded area, but pulled back.

"We've set aside one of the larger complexes of rooms on the next level up as our labs. Most of the science staff is based there, since it's easier for them to all collaborate if they're in shouting distance of each other. Radek actually has a room near the front to himself, which is where we'll be. Rodney has one too, but it will be easier to use Radek's since he's neater."

"But why don’t you use the labs on the East Pier?"

Carson sighed. "We don't have enough power to activate the entire city. When we arrived, the last ZPM was starting to fail holding back the sea. Raising it helped, and since then we've managed to track down a few more ZPMs and get the city to accept our own generators for some things, but it isn't enough."

"But there were plans in the mainframe…" Durand broke off, glancing up and over his shoulder at Carson. "You really are newcomers aren't you?"

The doctor chuckled. "We've been here for just over two years now, and things have been a bit busy. Not to mention the database is in Ancient. We've translated some of it, but as I'm sure you know there is a great deal of information there. We've barely scratched the surface."

"Ancient? What's with all this talk about ancient this and ancient that?" That had been bothering him for some time now, but hadn't gotten an opportunity to ask—not that anyone would have told him in any case.

"Oh, that's what we call your people. Whatever you called yourselves has been lost, so we started calling you the Ancients. Actually, now that I think about it, I have no idea why, or who started that."

"And how much time has gone by?"

Carson didn't respond right away, just pushed him down the hallway for a moment. "Are you certain you really want to know? Before, that seemed to bother you a bit, when we talked about the past."

"It's just…hard to comprehend that such time…any time as passed. I was on Atlantis only a month ago, working with some of the other scientists. It is…all it is missing are the faces I knew."

Carson sighed. "Well, as near as we can calculate, Atlantis and this galaxy were evacuated about ten thousand years ago. We really are the second evolution of your kind, after they ascended en masse from Earth."

"Wow…that's…" he said, the words drifting off as he tried to wrap his head around the sheer amount of time that had passed. Everyone he'd known was gone, long gone and he was alone in a body that was not even his. He frowning, glancing over his shoulder at the doctor as the second part of his answer settled. "What do you mean second evolution?"

"Some of us, myself and Colonel Sheppard included, have what we call the ATA gene, a certain sequence of DNA that appears to have been passed to us by the Ancients. It's what allows us to operate your technology. Not everyone has it, however. I was able to synthesize it, and developed a gene therapy that allows people like Rodney to operate the technology as well. It only takes in about half the subjects we've tried it on thus far, but it has greatly increased the number of people who can actually work with Atlantis directly."

"Huh. It makes sense actually." He shook his head. "I can't even begin to think of not being able to connect to the city or not hearing her. It must be difficult for your people if they cannot use the city to the full."

"Aye for some, like Radek, whose body rejected the therapy, I know it gets very frustrating. And even those of us who have it naturally don't have it in much quantity. Colonel Sheppard is the strongest, and seems to have a vague sense of Atlantis. I, ah, catch hints of it sometimes, but I must admit, the idea of a city talking to me makes me a mite bit nervous." He gave a self-conscious chuckle.

"Nervous?" Durand nearly turned all the way around in the chair. "How could you be nervous of something so beautiful, so perfect? Stop for a minute and try."

"No no no, that's okay. Really. The first time Rodney badgered me into using anything I nearly blew a few people up. I'm really not suited to that sort of thing. I could hurt something."

Durand tugged Carson around the side of the chair, nearly up-ending both of them in the process, but succeeding in getting them to stop. "It'll take all of a minute. Humor the crazy person who should be long dead. You won't hurt anything or anyone. I just want you to get the feel for her. Close your eyes and concentrate. Just listen for her."

Carson swallowed, his gaze darting around. "Really, you don't know how bad I am at this sort of thing. I...I could, you know, break something. And that would only make Colonel Sheppard more determined to hurt me, and Doctor Weir, she would just shake her head, and, and..."

"Do you trust me?"

He shuddered slightly. "Aye, it's myself I don't trust when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Then, here, give me your hand," he said dragging the nearest appendage. "I'll keep you grounded. All you need to do is close your eyes and think about the city. Picture her. That's all."

Carson's eyes were a bit wild, but then he closed them, opening them again almost immediately. "Nope, nothing, Atlantis must not like me. Time to get going?"

Durand sighed. "Once more and actually try this time."

Carson swallowed again, then closed his eyes. "Okay, I, I'm picturing the city. Now what?"

"Just listen."

Taking a deep breath, Carson's body relaxed slightly. Then an odd expression, wonder mixed with terror, passed over his features. He was gripping Durand's hand tightly, and when he spoke, it wasn't much louder than a whisper. "I can feel her. She, she seems sad."

"She is a true companion," Durand said, shaking Carson's hand gently, watching the emotions play over his face as he slowly disconnected. "Always faithful. Perfect in her beauty. Take time to know her and she will be faithful to you as well."

Durand waited another minute while the doctor shook himself, eyes wide.

"I...I never realized. I wonder if this is what Colonel Sheppard feels all the time? He said once he can always feel her in the back of his mind..." He looked at Durand, eyes finally focusing, an amazed smile on his face. "Thank you for sharing. I'm not sure I'll have the courage to do that often or alone, but I... thank you."

"It would do you well to listen even if you will not talk. You can learn much from Atlantis." Durand released his hand, leaning back in the chair. "What did you say…Radek was working on again?"

***

The dynamic between Durand and Radek had been interesting. At first, the two men had been nervous, both very polite and formal, and Ronon hovering hadn’t made it any better. Slowly, however, they both seemed to relax, and Carson had stepped back, allowing the scientists to work. Durand could access the database with a thought or with a few keystrokes on a nearby computer terminal, finding what Radek as looking for, and they had already discarded several options. He was content to let them work, offering the occasional comment.

He couldn’t stay focused anyway, despite how critical this was. It had been amazing, feeling the city open up and welcome him. For a moment, he had known what it felt like to truly be part of something, and now he understood the distracted look John sometimes had, and the fierce protectiveness Rodney had developed for the city. If Durand could do it, Rodney could, and Carson didn’t doubt he probably did it regularly.

Radek calling his name snapped him back to the present, and he forced himself to put everything else out of his mind. “What did you find?”

The scientist pulled Carson to the side, eyeing Durand who was continuing to work, scribbling notes on one of the PDAs. He'd taken to the earth-based technology quickly. Much like Rodney, he'd gravitated to the laptops and small hand-held devices.

"We have…discovered a possible solution to our problem. And while Durand seems willing, I am not sure that it would be such a good idea."

Carson didn't like the sound of that. "What? I won't agree to anything that hurts either of them."

"No, no, nothing like that," he replied, a far-off look appearing in his eyes for a second before vanishing. "Well, at least I do not believe so, but we have been unable to find something to…release Durand from Rodney's body and mind. However, there is a…virtual reality program of sorts. Durand actually discovered it. He was upset he hadn't known about it before. It seems to be a new addition to the systems."

"Virtual reality? What do you mean, 'of sorts'?" Carson eyed the scientist. "And why don't you think it's a good idea?"

"We would be placing Durand's consciousness…for lack of a better description, into the Atlantis mainframe, a small section of it, but Durand would become part of the Atlantis systems. The connection allows the program to continually update itself to provide a more realistic environment. However," he said pausing, "I do not believe Colonel Sheppard would agree to such a situation."

"I trust him, Radek." Carson said absently, watching Durand work. He didn't really look like Rodney most of the time, the lack of exaggerated facial expressions and constant movement gave him a different appearance altogether. But now, hunched over a laptop, Carson missed his friend. If Rodney was here, this would probably already have been solved, and they would be on to the smug self-congratulations already. "What other options do we have? We don't have much more time."

"I do not see any other. However, I may be able to adjust the system and disconnect it from the mainframe."

"And Durand is okay with that too?"

Radek shrugged, glancing over his shoulder briefly before turning back. "It is hard to know for sure. He says that would be acceptable. It is just that…I do now know what will happen to the virtual environment without the constant updates." He shrugged again. "This is not my area of expertise, nor is it Durand's. Rodney, however, would know certainly one way or another. But, I also worry that we may be running out of time."

Carson paled slightly at that. "Durand," he called the man over. Instead of rising to his feet, he used his feet to roll the chair toward them. "Radek told me about the solution. I'm not sure I like this. Even if we can find a way to—download—you into this virtual reality, we don't know what will happen to you, or how it will react without a direct connection to Atlantis." He sighed. "And I know the Colonel won't agree to this unless we agree to disconnect it. I can argue with him and fight with him, but at the end of the day, he is the military commander here, and I can't give him orders."

"I understand and accept the limitations," he said, his expression painfully neutral. "If you have a programmer on hand, the conversion of the virtual network will go much quicker. Actually, it may be a better option to create a duplicate version of the established virtual system and alter the second one. The new connections may be easier to disengage."

Carson shook his head. "Durand, I won't agree to this unless you and Radek can assure me it's safe, and that we have some way to check in with you, to make sure nothing goes wrong. I didn't go to all the trouble of keeping you alive and freeing you just to turn around and send you into another sort of prison."

"And I think it would be best for the transfer to take place in one of the labs on the East Pier. There was a secondary chair room set up there that was independent of the rest of the Atlantis systems. We can transfer the program to the computers in that room." Durand glanced down at his hands before looking Carson in the face. "It's for the best. Please, trust me."

"I know you think you have something to atone for, but I'm not letting you do this unless you convince me it's a good idea." He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't like when patients dodged his questions, and in this particular situation, Durand counted as a patient.

"If I don't do this, I fear that your friend may never recover. Please, let me make this right—for both of us."

Carson gave him a hard look. "You din'na think you'll survive this, do you?" He turned to the other scientist. "Radek, how much do we know about this virtual reality? What is it programmed to show, and how much control will we have when it's disconnected?"

"Not much," Radek admitted, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "The programming…as much as I can hypothesize is based around the user. Others can enter it, but it will be keyed to the first entrant, in this instance Durand." He paused, his face thoughtful. "As long as the room where this program is running has power, it will continue to run—even without the updates from the Atlantis mainframe."

"With it disconnected from the mainframe, will there be any way to monitor the power? To give it priority, so it doesn't get taken down by one of the brown-outs?" He turned to Durand, knowing the man wouldn't recognize the term. "To conserve power, we occasionally shut down everything on a rolling system, with only the most critical functions exempt. Radek, if we do this, I want that room put on the critical list."

"It does not take a lot of power," he said, but was cut off by Durand.

"The city has priority, not any singular system. Placing a system, even as small as this one, on the critical list is unwise." Durand paused, confusion replacing the anger on his face. "And why do you not just build another ZPM if that is the problem with power?"

"People are more important that systems. If I agree to this, it will be with the understanding that the room never loses power." Carson leaned against a table, suddenly tired. "As for the ZPMs, Rodney and Radek have been trying since we arrived to figure out how to build or recharge them, but we aren't quite that advanced yet."

Durand shook his head, his expression falling. "No disrespect intended, but I doubt that Radek can guarantee anything." He sighed. "And the ZPMs are not difficult once you understand the math."

Radek made a strangled noise, but whether at the insistence that he couldn't guarantee anything, or the accidental insult over the math, Carson had no idea. It startled a chuckle out of him though. "Aye, and I have faith they'll figure it out eventually. Working on ZPMs in their spare time keeps them both out of trouble." He gave the spluttering scientist a few moments to regain control, then brought the man back into the conversation. "Radek? Can you set up a way for that room to always have power?"

"Yes, of course, but as Durand said, I cannot guarantee that it shall always remain up. With our current power situation it is not a problem, however, should anything happen to the ZPM or the back-up generators…" He shrugged. "I shall do the best I can."

Carson finally gave in. He knew, better than most he suspected, since he was the one who dealt with every single injury, every death report, how few guarantees they really had in Pegasus. "All right, do your best lad. I know we can't plan for every contingency. Now the question is, how do we transfer Durand to the reality?"

"If we can use the chair I mentioned earlier, it should be as simple as sitting down and connecting," Durand said, his hands clasped in his lap.

"I'd like a few more details, if you don't mind." Carson gave him a wry smile. "I have no doubt you could use the chair to blink yourself out of existence. I'd like to be sure that doesn't happen, if you don't mind. Also, I want to know what kind of reality you plan to create. As I said, I have no intention of sending you into another prison."

Durand sighed. "What does it matter?"

Carson gave him a hard look. "Are ye daft man? I'm starting to feel like a broken record, repeating myself so often. Plus, if I going to be coming in to this virtual reality thing every so often to check on you, I'd like some idea of what to expect."

"It'll be whatever I want, I imagine," Durand finally replied, his eyes sliding away. "Maybe before everything…happened."

"Good. As long as it's happy, and not some silly punishment you've concocted in that head of yours."

"In Rodney's head don't you mean?"

"Cheeky bugger." He looked over at Ronon, who was still leaning against a wall. "Ronon, I'm sure you've been in contact with John. Let him know what we plan, and tell him we're heading down to the East Pier." He hoped they could be on their way before John had a chance to catch them. He didn't much fancy another confrontation right now.

"Already did," Ronon says, a smile threatening on his lips.

"Then we'd better move right along then." He noted that Radek had already gathered his equipment, and there was another scientist standing nearby, a programmer if Carson remembered correctly. Radek must have called for him when he wasn't paying attention. "Back into the chair for you, Durand."

"Sheppard's on his way," Ronon said, watching as Durand transferred himself from the lab chair to the wheelchair with a minimum of difficulty. "He wants…an explanation."

"Ah, why don't you stay here and explain it to him then? We really need to get going. The quicker we get this straightened out, the better off we'll be, right?" He was already pushing the chair towards the door. He didn't want to admit it, but he was a bit afraid of what Sheppard would do to him. The man had been more than kind when he had been sick, but Carson had seen some odd looks shot his way, then the whole argument. Not to mention he was inadvertently responsible for this whole mess. Yes, better to stay away from John until he had a chance to work everything out in his own mind.

"I stay with him, remember?" Ronon said gesturing with his chin toward Durand. "Besides, he had some questions."

"We've been here for hours with nothing happening," Carson half-turned to give the man an exasperated look. "Besides, you can catch up after you brief the Colonel."

"I'm not crossing Sheppard when he's in one of his moods."

He stumbled a bit at that. "He won't hurt you. He likes you." He muttered under his breath. "Look, it'll be fine lad." He was almost to the door, scientists trailing behind.

Before Ronon had a chance to say anything else, he was out the door. Once they were in the transporter, he relaxed slightly. This was going to work. It had to.

***

Durand liked the East Pier. Always had. The fact that some of the science labs were out this way may have only been part of the reason.

The scientists had been working for several hours already, allowed to work once John had given the okay. Carson had looked a little uneasy, but it seemed the soldier only had a few questions.

Someone had brought food a while ago, but he hadn't been very hungry and had ended up picking at the meal as he stared at the chair in the center of the room, watching abstractly as the scientists buzzed around, connecting everything while keeping this room and its systems isolated from the rest of the city.

Maybe a little of Atlantis would remain behind. That would be nice.

He was startled out of his reverie by a voice at his side, the body dropping down in the adjacent chair.

John Sheppard was looking him over carefully. He grabbed a piece of pastry from the tray nearby and held it out. "Let's not do the whole hypoglycemic thing again, huh?"

"No," he said, taking it carefully from the man's hand. "That wasn't fun."

"Yeah, it doesn't look like much fun. And you should see what happens when citrus is involved. That takes it to a whole new level."

"Citrus?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Sheppard let out short laugh. "Rodney's allergic to it. If he even gets near it he starts turning blue for lack of oxygen, and his face gets all puffy and splotchy. We had to have training on how to deal with a reaction, and we all carry EpiPens on us now, with the medication to counteract the reaction." He pulled a slim device out of a vest pocket and held it up.

Durand knew his eyes were open wide, staring disbelievingly at John. "That sounds…barbaric. Don't you have other ways to treat such irregularities in the body?"

He shrugged. "Once we get him back here, Beckett has better treatment options. It happens so fast though, there's no way we would be able to get him back through the gate and to the infirmary in time from off-world to save him though. At least not without these. It holds off the whole thing long enough to keep him alive."

"You take…Rodney off-world even with all of his…issues? I thought he was head of your science department. Wouldn't his time be better spent here?" How a head scientist could not spend all his time delving through Atlantis' systems was…mind-boggling to him.

"There's a lot of technology scattered through the galaxy. Your people felt the need to spread it out a bit. His job is to help us find it, keep us from blowing things up—most of the time—and tell us if there's anything useful. Like ZPMs. Or weapons. Or really cool toys."

"Huh," Durand said, turning his attention back to the scientists. Carson was there now, talking with several of them, shaking his head when someone finally answered the questions he was throwing at them. "He's worried."

John's gaze followed his. "Yeah, Carson's like that." He suddenly trained his penetrating gaze back on Durand. "He really trusts you. He's determined to make sure you and Rodney are both safe."

Durand sighed wearily. "I'm not sure why exactly."

"Beckett's like that," he repeated.

"He feels too deeply for a doctor." Durand shook his head. "It's not worth the pain."

John's gaze drifted back over to the doctor. "He believes he can save the universe. And when he can't, he takes it hard."

Durand narrowed his eyes. "The universe's not worth it. Trust me."

John looked back at Durand. "There are some days I'd agree with you. But Carson never will. And if the rest of us give up, who will be there to make sure he doesn't get fed on by a Wraith, or blown up by faulty wiring somewhere?"

"I'm not talking about giving up, per say, maybe taking a more…realistic view." He shrugged, tilting his head to look at the man seated beside him, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the lines of pain on his face. "And you should take something for your headache."

"To Carson, realistic and giving up are the same thing." He gave Durand a long look. "And what makes you think I have a headache?"

Durand raised his hands wiggling his fingers toward John's face. "Lines in the corner of your eyes. Your mouth is tense too. And we won't mention the glassy eyes. Nydia used to get the same signs."

"Nydia? That was your wife, right? Carson briefed us a bit, but I got the feeling he was leaving things out. Wanna talk?"

Durand shrugged turning away. "Not much to say. She's dead. I’m not."

John was silent for a moment. "So...virtual reality, huh? Please tell me you plan to do something cool like fly or maybe go surfing."

He turned back, raising an eyebrow. "I understand the flying part, but not the…surfing. And," he shrugged, "maybe."

John grinned at him. "Surfing, now that's the best form of stress relief there is. Just you, a surfboard, and the ocean. You wait for a nice big wave to come, stand up on the board, and ride the wave to the beach. Then you swim back out and do it all over again."

"And you…voluntarily do this?" Shaking his head, Durand looked away. These…people were odd.

"Well, I seem to be the only one here who likes to surf, although I have high hopes that eventually I'll be able to convince someone else to give it a shot. Maybe Ronon." John was laughing softly.

"Why are you here, really?" Durand asked after several minutes had passed, the silence growing between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Durand could tell that the man beside him was waiting for something.

"Truthfully? I'm here to see if this will work, and if it doesn't to handle the situation. And if it does work, I have a feeling Rodney's going to be a bit out of his mind, so to speak, and I want to be here to calm him down."

"Huh." Durand shifted in the chair, the pain from the wound in his—Rodney's—left buttock smarting a little. It was just about healed, but it was still sore. "What's he like?"

"Rodney?" John laughed again. "He's a pain in the ass most of the time. He's arrogant, completely inept when it comes to social situations, and can be downright snarky when he puts his mind to it. But under all that, he is the smartest man in several galaxies, and he would give his life to protect Atlantis and his team. He cares a lot more than he lets on."

"Huh."

"Rodney's a pretty complicated man. I don't think he ever sits still or stops moving, except when drugged or asleep. He can't really shut that brain of his off, and he tends to say whatever comes to mind, without stopping to think about it. But he is amazingly loyal, and while he denies it at every opportunity, is pretty brave. He's been in a lot of situations no civilian should have to face, but he somehow always manages to not only get out alive, but save the day at the same time."

"Sound like quite the guy," Durand said, a flash of something—pain, envy, something—going through his mind. "No wonder you're so anxious to get him back."

John laughed again. "I'm sure there are some in the science department who would just as soon not get him back. Rodney has most of them terrorized, but amazingly enough he gets results. They work harder for him than anyone else. But more than anything," John's gaze became intense, "he's a member of my team. Our motto is to never leave a man behind, even the annoying, snarky ones."

Durand turned, looking at John for a moment before glancing away again. He seemed sincere, sounded it too. Huh.

John stared at him for a moment longer, the glanced over at Carson again. "And now it seems Carson has decided you're a member of my extended team, too. I'll be honest, I'm still not entirely sure of this, but I trust him, and he trusts you. So that protection extends to you," John unconsciously echoed Carson's earlier words.

"It's because I look like him. For all intents and purposes I am him—apart from the slight issue with his mind."

"Actually, you're nothing like him. You look like him, but that doesn't mean anything. I've met plenty of identical twins to know the difference. You inhabit his body at the moment, but you are a different person entirely. I know that's how Carson thinks of you, and why he was so insistent that a way be found to save you both."

Durand shrugged. "Maybe."

"You really think I would have allowed this if he hadn't fought me on it? No offense, but you took over the body of my head geek, attacked my people, and tried to blow up my city. I know most of that wasn't really your fault, but it's my job to be suspicious."

Durand felt his lips twitch in a half smile. "And you do it so well."

John gave him another cocky smile. "Hey, we all need something to be good at."

"What is it with you and that grin?"

"What is it with scientists and mocking my appearance? Rodney never misses an opportunity to say something disparaging about my hair. You note the smile. Radek tells me to stop leaning against things. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted."

"That smile should be outlawed, that's what," Durand said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd be surprised if it hasn't gotten you into trouble."

"Me? Trouble? Nah, I'm always a good boy."

Durand looked at John and his innocent expression—wide eyes and all—and burst out laughing. When he finally caught his breath, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sure you are."

John was laughing with him. "Yeah, somehow I didn't think you'd buy that. Can't hurt to try though, right?"

He stopped abruptly, the humor quickly dissipating. "You'd be surprised."

John looked at him closely. "Okay, that's another thing I can't get used to. Why do all scientists feel the need to change moods so fast? Are you all on some sort of permanent PMS?"

Durand shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure I understand exactly what you mean, but perhaps it's because many scientists are simply closer to the reality of a situation than anyone else."

"Riiiight. You all spend half your time up to your ears in wires and hare-brained ideas, and you're the ones with a firm grounding in reality. Give me a nice big gun and point out what you want me to shoot. That's my idea of being grounded in the situation." He was grinning again as he said it.

"That is not always the answer," Durand said simply, wincing as a pain flashed through his head.

A hand awkwardly patted his leg. "I know. Why do you think I have Rodney on my team when he'd be far safer staying here all the time?"

"Do you think they are close to completing the project?"

John shrugged. "I don't even understand half of what they're saying. But I can ask." He looked up and caught Radek's eye, motioning him over. "How's it coming?"

The scientist shrugged slightly. "We are almost done. Double-checking some of the sub-routines now. Why?"

"Just wanted to be kept up to date." John nodded, letting the man return to work.

Carson walked over then, kneeling down next to them, rocking back on his heels slightly. "So lad, are you ready? You still have time to change your mind if you aren't positive."

Durand rubbed his hand across the pressure points on either side of his head as he nodded at Carson. "I’m fine, ready."

Carson nodded, standing up and reaching out a hand. “Let’s get you settled then.”

John stood as well, reaching out to help Durand stand as well. “For what its worth, good luck. If this works, maybe we can have a longer, less—situation-charged—conversation. I can teach you to surf in that VR thing.”

Nodding in answer to John's comment, he stood and began to wobble, his knees barely holding him. If it weren't for John and Carson's hands on him he would have hit the ground. He groaned, closing his eyes.

"Hang on, not too far to go." They quickly got him over to the chair, sitting him down. "Durand," Carson’s voice was soft, a bit choked up, "just in case this doesn't work right, I, uh, wanted to say I've enjoyed getting to know you." A hand around his arm squeezed once before letting go.

“Yeah, um, good luck.” John stepped back, letting the scientists move in to make last-minute adjustments.

Durand nodded, breathing deep. "Radek, are you done? Now would be a good time to say yes."

Radek nodded and stepped back. "We are as ready as possible. Whenever you wish to begin."

Durand glanced around. Offering a weary smile. "Thank you. No one else would have done such a thing for me."

Leaning back, he closed his eyes, feeling the connection to the chair and the room activate immediately, tilting him back so he was almost lying down.

He could feel the system come online, grabbing him and pulling him in. Part of him didn't want to go, wanted to stay, but he knew what had to be done. He knew the stakes.

With a final breath he pushed and felt himself let go, merging with the computer system, feeling a small part of Atlantis cradle him and pull him in…

He was home.

***

Carson knew the moment Durand had left Rodney’s body. The chair disengaged, and Rodney shot up, his eyes wild for a moment, his mouth forming a silent scream. Then he fell back, eyes glazed, completely unresponsive. He leaped over, grabbing him, keeping him from falling backwards. “Rodney! Rodney, lad, can you hear me! Rodney!”

Instead of answering, he slumped in Carson's hands. Instead of lowering him back to the chair, he turned angling the two of them toward the floor. Sheppard appeared seconds later, offering his support in actions and words.

"Rodney. Come on, buddy. You're safe. We've got you."

Carson let go with one hand to reach for his headset. "Infirmary, this is Beckett. I need an emergency trauma team down here, stat." He got Rodney on his back, and pried open his eyelids, a flashlight appearing out of one of his pockets. His pupils dilated, but he didn't show any indication of having noticed.

"Doc?" Sheppard's voice was tight, his hand on Rodney's shoulder.

Carson's voice was tight as he worked. "He's catatonic, in shock. I need to get him somewhere warm and quiet, as soon as possible, or he could catch something. His immune system will be severely depressed for a while."

"Claustrophobia?"

"Among other things. He's been trapped in his own mind for days now. My guess is that after a while he simply couldn't handle it and started to shut down. We're going to have to convince him it’s safe to come back, and that means a certain amount of physical stimuli. He needs to know we're here, and that he's got his body back."

"But will he listen? Damn stubborn scientists," John muttered before leaning down, speaking directly into Rodney's ear. "This is no time for dramatics, McKay. We've managed to get the hitchhiker out. Why don't you come back and check out the place? It's a little empty without you."

"To be honest, I have no idea. There is a certain amount of evidence that even people who are fully brain-dead and unresponsive have a limited awareness to what's going on around them. It's a theory in its infancy, but if it's right, that means Rodney can hear us, he just isn't ready to respond yet."

Sheppard glanced up, an annoyed expression on his face. "We need him working and in one piece you know."

Carson glared at him, his own fears temporarily put on hold as he let his 'doctor persona' take over. "I am well aware of that Colonel Sheppard. Believe me, I'm going to do all I can."

"I know, I know," he said, pulling on his 'sorry that scared the natives' face. He glanced away, studying McKay for a long moment, his hand squeezing his shoulder. "We can't…this has to work. After what we went through, he has to be okay."

Carson relented, letting John see how afraid he was for a moment before locking it down again. "I know. I promise you, we'll do everything we can to bring him back."

Sheppard sighed, his other hand moving to grip McKay's hand. "Come on, buddy. Show us those baby blues."

Carson continued to work, checking Rodney's pulse and other vitals, but there wasn't too much he could do here, away from his equipment. So he spent a certain amount of time just running his hands up and down Rodney's arms, trying to give the man a physical anchor to focus on. When the trauma team arrived, they got Rodney up on the gurney, and started the trip back to the infirmary.

"Doc?" Sheppard said, as he stood in the middle of the room, looking lost and concerned all in one.

Carson paused for a moment, letting his team move on. They were well-versed in emergency procedures, so he knew they would be okay for a moment. He took a good look at John, noting for the first time the dark circles, the pain lines in his forehead. "Colonel, why don't you let me give you something to help you relax a bit, and go get some sleep. You aren't going to do Rodney any good if you pass out at his feet when he finally wakes up."

Sheppard looked at him carefully, an unidentifiable emotion crossing his face. "Durand told me to ask you for something for my headache."

"Why didn't you listen to him? Ach lad, living with pain when we can easily deal with it is a bit daft, don't you think? Come upstairs and let me give you something, then go get some rest. If you're really concerned, I'm sure Doctor Biro won't mind you finding an out-of-way cot to sleep on."

"He could tell," John said, shuffling forward.

Carson grabbed his arm lightly, steering him towards the door, even as he nodded to Radek, who was running a few tests to make sure everything had gone ok. "And that's a bad thing?"

Sheppard shrugged, allowing himself to be pulled along. "Unexpected more than anything."

"Daft, that's what you are. I'll write it off as exhaustion, but try not to let it get ahead of you."

"He's going to be okay, right?" Sheppard said quietly, several minutes later when they'd almost reached the infirmary.

Carson wasn't sure which one he meant, so he answered both. "If we have anything to say about it, aye, they both will. Radek is double-checking the system, and volunteered to check on Durand once they're positive everything went smoothly. And Rodney—we'll do our best. This is going to be hard on him, but as long as we let him know we're here, he should be fine. Doctor Biro will be putting a team on him round-the-clock, and we'll do everything we can think of to snap him out of this."

Sheppard nodded. "I have to give my report to Elizabeth," he said absently. "And why is it that you let the pathologist run the infirmary?"

Carson hesitated briefly, his step faltering slightly before continuing. "She's a very good doctor, lad, one of the best, otherwise she wouldn't be here."

"But she works on dead people," he protested, allowing himself to be led to the nearest bed.

He chose not to answer that, not really trusting his response. Instead, he detoured slightly to grab a bottle from a nearby shelf. It was where they kept the more mild painkillers, the things that were most often needed to help ease headaches, minor aches and pains. He took a few pills out and put them on the table next to Sheppard. "Take those for your headache, then lie back and try to get some rest."

"But, Rodney," he said, already moving to stand back on his feet. "I have to go and check—"

Carson roughly pushed him down into the bed. "Nae. There's nothing you can do right now. The trauma team has him, and will be doing a full set of tests." His expression softened a bit. "I know you want to help, and I'll make sure you stay informed if anything changes. But right now, you need to get some sleep."

"I still need to report to Elizabeth—"

"That can wait. And if she comes looking for you, I'll make her go rest, too. That lass is as bad as you are about not sleeping."

Sheppard grumbled, but allowed himself to relax on the bed, only propping himself up long enough to take the pills Carson had left. With an arm covering his eyes, he sighed and stilled.

Once he was sure the Colonel was going to stay put, Carson headed towards the back of the infirmary where they had taken Rodney. He was already hooked up to and IV, several tubes already running from various body parts. He walked over, and, staying out of their way, he stroked Rodney's forehead. "Come on, lad, come back to us. There are a lot of people counting on you."

***

Rodney woke with a start, his eyes popping open as he glanced frantically around the room, his gaze not settling on anything.

Was he here or was this just another dream? Another tease? With the curtains up and the ceiling so close, he couldn't catch his breath. He needed to get out, get away. Maybe this time it was real. Maybe this time.

But he didn't know and didn't care.

There were tubes and wires on him and they had to come off. He had to get them off. They had to come off now.

Wincing as he pried them lose, he managed to stumble out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor. Holding onto the bed, he lurched toward the privacy screen, nearly toppling into it, but catching his balance at the last minute.

Shaking off the dizziness, he headed for the door, staying near the wall or gripping a bed if he lost his footing.

He had to get out before it happened again, before he was trapped. He had to see the sun. Had to see outside.

Once the door opened into a familiar corridor, he turned heading anywhere away from here, away from the stifling, stale air that was choking him.

When he finally came back to himself a little, he was outside, the early morning sun on his face. How long he ran, he didn't know. His feet and calves hurt, his breath still came in panting gasps. He didn't even know where he was except that he could see outside.

Curled up along the outer wall of Atlantis, Rodney pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, letting his head sink to the top of his knees as he rocked back and forth, some small comfort coming from the movement.

He was outside.

He could breathe for a little while until they came and trapped him again.

***

Carson had been persuaded to take the same advice he'd given to John, and had curled up in one of the cots in the next room. Actually, Doctor Biro had pointed out that he had never technically been cleared for full duty, and was only being allowed to work at her sufferance, and even that would be revoked if he didn’t go sleep. He was too tired to argue, so he had allowed himself to be sent off to bed. It was the sudden shouting that woke him, slightly panicked voices, coming from Rodney’s room. Before he could fully comprehend what he was hearing, he was up and moving, coming to a dead stop when he got around the corner.

Rodney’s bed was empty.

He didn’t even bother to listen to the nurses. He turned and went to where Sheppard was still sleeping, too far away for the voices to have woken him yet. “Colonel, wake up, there’s a slight situation.” He tried to keep the panic out of his own voice, knowing this wasn’t really the time.

"Wha…?" He was blinking, trying to pull himself to wakefulness.

"Rodney appears to have taken a field trip." He saw Anne hurrying over. "Lass, any idea how long he's been gone?"

“We were checking on him every two hours, unless an alarm went off. He was there when Shelley checked, but was gone just now when it was Heather’s turn to look in on him.”

Sheppard had managed to get himself to a seated position on the bed, his sock-clad feet hanging over the edge. "I thought you were watching him."

Carson felt his cheeks heat slightly. "Lindsay ordered me to bed. I was never cleared for duty, and she threatened me. I was in the next room, and I did'na hear a thing."

"God," Sheppard said, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to wipe out the fatigue. "What the hell did you give me?"

"Pain killers. You tend to react strongly to acetaminophen, so I picked something with that in it, to make sure you slept. You've had some time to let it run through your system, so it should wear off completely as soon as you get moving."

Shaking his head, he scowled, reaching for the headset that was on the side table. "Where do you think he went?"

"I've no idea." Carson ran a hand over his own face, knowing he probably didn't look much better than John. "You know him better than anyone. When he woke up, he was probably terrified and disoriented. He would have gone somewhere he felt safe."

"He could be anywhere." John sighed. "We need to check everywhere he'd normally go. His quarters, the labs, the mess, hell…every balcony." He paused, eyes widening. "You don't think he'd…"

Carson closed his eyes briefly. "Rodney's never shown any indication that he's suicidal, no. But he's been through a lot. Can you get your Marines to check the more obvious places? I have a feeling they won't find him there, but it never hurts to be thorough. He's been locked in his own mind, if I was him, the first place I would go would be somewhere open."

"Well, I doubt he's in his right mind," Sheppard said, setting the earbud in place. "Sheppard to Lorne." He paused, waiting for the man to respond. "It looks like McKay flew the coup. We need to locate him quickly and quietly, preferably without spooking him. When you locate him, give either me or Beckett a call. We'll come to retrieve him. Understood?"

He paused again, his eyes fixed on his knee where his fingers were tapping. "Good. Sheppard out."

"I'll start on the balconies and such near the infirmary, if you want to start further out."

"Sure," Sheppard nodded, sliding off the bed and reaching for his boots, tugging them in place and tying them in record time. "Anything I need to know?"

"Just be very careful with him. I've no idea what state of mind he's in right now. Speak quietly, don't make sudden moves, and try to be soothing."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "I can be soothing, you know."

"Aye, like a hammer to the head," he said under his breath. Then louder, "Just be careful of him."

He shot Carson a glance, but didn't comment. "Will do."

With a nod, Carson moved out, stopping by his office to grab his own earpiece, setting it firmly in place. The first few balconies were empty, and he swallowed down his rising fear. But by the fourth one, he rounded a corner and saw a form huddled against a wall, making soft whimpering noises. "Oh my, God. Rodney."

***

Was this real? Was this a dream?

He couldn't tell, didn't want to know.

He thought he heard voices, felt hands on him, but that couldn't be possible, could it? How could he feel anything in a dream?

But what if it wasn't? What if it was real? What if it was actually Carson kneeling beside him?

But why? Why would he be here? And where was here?

No, this had to be a dream. Had to.

"Rodney, lad, it's okay. You're safe. Durand isn't in there anymore. We got him out. Look at me, Rodney. You're safe." The hands we gentle, barely touching, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to.

Nononono. It's a trick. It has to be. Just like last time.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Rodney. I know. I know you're afraid." Carson reached up and gently took Rodney's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. "Rodney, you're safe now. You aren't going to be sent back to that corner of your mind again. Durand is gone."

Rodney tried to pull away, but Carson's hands were firm, holding him steady. "You can't be real," he finally said, the words whispered, unbelieving.

"I am real. I'm right here, and you're safe, and you don't have to go back there again."

He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, only to open them again. "Can't go back, can't," he said, quietly, stridently. "Can't go back to the dark."

He could feel his chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.

"Rodney! Stay with me lad. You don't have to go back. Nothing is going to make you. You're safe. You're here, and you are in control. There's no one else in there with you anymore."

He wanted to believe him, but what if he was wrong? What if this was just another tease? "I can't go back. I can't. Please, don't make me. Please."

Carson let go of his face and reached down to pinch him lightly. "You are here, Rodney, this isn't a dream. I promise. We can stay here and enjoy the fresh air for as long as you want. There are a lot of people who have been very worried about you. I'm going to call Colonel Sheppard now, let him know I found you. We have the whole city looking for you." He reached up and tapped his headset. “Sheppard, this is Beckett, I found him.” He paused for a moment. “Aye, he’s a bit edgy at the moment, so be careful if you come out here. But I think he’ll be fine.”

Sheppard? Sheppard was here too?

He slid away from the apparition that was pretending to be Carson, huddling around his knees while he studied the man across from him.

He looked real enough. But what if this was a trick?

He didn't want it to be, but what if it was?

"Rodney, oh you poor thing. I'm so sorry I got you into this." Carson sat down, staying just out of arm's reach, but not close enough to make him feel closed in. "What can I do to convince you this is real?"

"Dunno," Rodney replied, keeping his eyes on Carson even when he heard the door slide open. He shrank back a little, his shoulders hitting the wall.

Sheppard came into view, moving slowly. "Rodney, buddy, how ya feeling?"

"Nononono, you can't be here," he whispered, eyes flickering back and forth between his two friends. "Can't."

Sheppard sank to his knees nearby, his voice low, his eyes flashing with something. "Why can't we be here? Durand's gone. Well, we put him in the new virtual reality machine Radek discovered. And we found out some rather nasty things about Ancients. Carson even used a device—he argued with me about letting him use it."

Carson shot a look at the Colonel, then turned his gaze back to Rodney. “Aye, we have a lot to catch you up on lad.” He reached out again, laying one hand on Rodney’s arm.

Rodney jerked back, trying to move away but finding he had nowhere else to go. Whimpering he tried to scramble to his feet, but he couldn't seem to get up.

Sheppard made a noise that sounded like a growl, then he moved forward, gripping both Rodney's arms. "Listen to me. You are real. This is real. You are safe." He shook him slightly. "Please, Rodney, snap out of it."

"Please," he said, shaking, but not moving away. "Don't make me go back. I can't. I—" He tried to take another breath but it came out more like a sob.

John shook him again, harder this time. "Use that genius brain of yours, Rodney! Listen to me! You aren't going back. Hell, we'll even get you a nightlight so you don't have to sleep in the dark for a while."

Rodney's eyes widened and he let himself slump forward, his head hitting Sheppard's shoulder, hand clutching his BDU jacket. "God, you are real, aren’t you?

"Yeah, Rodney, I'm real. And if you ever do something like this to me again, I may have to hunt you down and kill you."

He took another shuddering breath. "Please, promise me you will. I can't…can't do that again."

"Yeah, I promise. I mean come on, how many times do you really need to have your body taken over by someone else. I think you might have filled that quota now."

Rodney chuckled, but felt it quickly turn into something close to hysteria. He felt Sheppard ease him back down, felt another set of hands on his back, supporting him, grounding him.

"Easy there, Rodney," Carson's voice was still soothing. "Take a few deep breaths. When you're ready, I'd like to get you back to the infirmary."

He shook his head. "Nonononono. Here is nice."

"It's okay, we don't have to go anywhere yet. Not until you're good and ready." Beckett leaned back against the railing, keeping his eye on Rodney.

Sheppard leaned back, too, putting his back up against the same wall as Rodney's. "So, whatcha wanna talk about?"

"Actually," Rodney said, his eyes fixed on the horizon that was starting to darken. "I'm not feeling so good."

"Aye, you haven't had any physical sensations for a few days. Everything is going to seem magnified, emotions, touches, everything."

"No…no, not that," he said, feeling his forehead scrunch up like when he was trying to figure something out. "Why is it getting dark?" He titled his head up but Carson's concerned face began to spin. "Oh, that's not right…"

***

“What the hell?” Sheppard was grabbing Rodney, keeping him from toppling over, while Carson jumped forward to do the same. A quick check reassured him that there was still a strong pulse.

“He fainted. I’d imagine he’s a wee bit overwhelmed right now.” Carson pried Rodney’s eyelids up and was gratified by the response.

"Fainted? Are you sure?" Sheppard looked a little peaked, eyes wide as he gently leaned Rodney back against the wall.

Carson just looked at him. "Nae, I'm not a doctor with a medical degree at all. I have no idea what a faint looks like."

"Sorry, sorry," he replied, holding up his free hand. "I'm just not used to…this."

Carson shook his head. "Aye, usually it's you I'm patching up, with the rest of your team standing around making stupid comments."

Sheppard didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow. When Rodney shifted under his hand, his head snapped back to the scientist. "McKay?"

Carson leaned over, running his hand up lightly up and down Rodney's arm, as he had done back when Durand first left. "Rodney, welcome back. How are you feeling now?"

The scientist's eyes fluttered a moment before opening, taking a few seconds to focus. "Carson?" The word was whispered, but the question was unmistakable.

"Aye, it's me, and you're still here. You just fainted."

"Fainted?" An eyebrow rose. "I…don't…faint."

Sheppard chuckled. "Yeah, you pass out from manly hunger, right?"

"Exactly…right," McKay said, eyes sliding shut again.

Carson smiled, relieved Rodney could banter, even weakly. That was a good sign. "Rodney, since you aren't ready to go in just yet, I'm going to call for someone to come look you over. I don't know how long you've been out here, and your immune system is a bit weak at the moment."

"You do it."

"Ah, well, Doctor Biro has your case, and technically I'm not cleared for duty yet... She'll just draw some blood, and do a quick check to make sure you didn't injure anything getting out here."

"No." Rodney opened his eyes, fixing them on Carson. "Don't want her anywhere near me. You do it."

"She's been the one taking care of you since...since you first fell ill. She's doing a fine job, and won't hurt you." His eyes flicked to John, who was scowling at him. "Not to mention, I din'na want to leave you, in case something else goes wrong, and I don't have any equipment with me."

"You let the pathologist treat me?" Rodney's voice was starting to rise again. "She works on dead bodies, Carson! Dead bodies!"

"And she is a perfectly qualified doctor, thank you very much. My specialty is genetics when you come right down to it, but that doesn't stop me from practicing medicine."

"I don't want her anywhere near me unless I’m dead. Do you understand?"

Carson sighed. "Fine, I'll ask someone else to have a look at you."

"No," Rodney said, shrinking back a little. "I don't want anyone else to treat me. Don't trust any of the other quacks…"

Carson swallowed hard at the term, clinching his fists. He knew Rodney usually disparaged medicine as a hack science, but he couldn't get the sound of his voice telling him he wanted a new doctor out of his head. "You're just feeling a bit out of sorts right now. It's just a little blood draw and a quick checkup, nothing major. We can argue more about this when you're feeling better."

"No one else. Please."

"Doc," Sheppard said, his eyes narrowing. "Why don't you just do what he asks?"

Carson looked at him for a long moment, ignoring the growls coming from Sheppard. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll do it this once." Reaching up, he activated his headset. "Anne, luv, I need you to bring a syringe and a kit out to the balcony I gave the coordinates for earlier."

Rodney slumped against the wall, shaking slightly. "Thank you."

"You won't thank me later when you remember everything," Carson muttered under his breath. Out of habit while he waited, he reached out to take Rodney's pulse again.

The scientist flinched, but didn't pull away, his eyes on Carson. "This isn't a dream, right?"

"No, this isn't a dream. I promise." Carson let him go, sitting back against the railing again.

"Good, good," he replied, rolling his head to the side to look at Sheppard. "You should ask Carson for something for your headache."

"What is it with everyone trying to solve my headache issues?" John looked exasperated.

Carson just shook his head. "The pain killers didn't work? Son, you really do need to get more rest on a regular basis. This is just your body's way of telling you something is wrong."

"You get testy when you have a headache," Rodney commented, "and I can't deal with you being testy right now."

John sighed. "Sorry, yeah, I know. Sorry."

"See. I was right. This must be a dream. He apologized."

Carson laughed. "Aye, he's been downright testy lately, and that's the first apology I've heard."

Sheppard scowled but didn't comment, instead reaching out and patting Rodney on the shoulder.

Anne chose that moment to make an appearance. Carson took the kit from her, and quickly drew a vial of blood, not looking at Rodney. "Have them run the standard tests. I just want to be sure he has'na caught anything."

“Sure thing, Doctor Beckett. And, Doctor McKay, it's good to have you back.” She smiled as she took the blood and left.

McKay's eyes were still fixed on the door that Anne has just disappeared through. "She's okay."

John's head snapped around, his tone careful. "Okay? Yeah, why wouldn't she be?"

"She's nice to me when she really shouldn't be."

"Why shouldn't she be nice to you?" Carson looked puzzled. "I know you like to terrorize the nursing staff, but Anne's always thought you were more amusing than anything else."

He shrugged. "I'm not a nice person…bad with people."

"I'm starting to feel like a bloody therapist. Rodney, we all know you aren't good with people, but that doesn't mean you aren't a nice person."

He turned his head, his eyes half open. "I'm cold."

Carson snapped back into doctor mode. "Aye. Rodney, I really would like to get you back to the infirmary. Not only is it warmer, but we can get you settled. If you're doing fine by tonight, I'll have Doctor Biro release you to your room on the condition someone either stays with you or checks in on a regular basis."

"I thought you promised…you handle my treatment…doctoring." He closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again and nodding. "I'd really like to be warm."

"We'll still have that discussion later. However, for now she's in charge of the infirmary. Final decisions on release are up to her, so I can make recommendations, but I can't order your release." He stood up and reached a hand out. "Now let's go get you warm."

Rodney looked at the hand for a long moment before nodding. "Okay."

Carson sighed with relief, and motioned for John to help. "Right then, off we go. And Rodney? You really are here. You really are safe."

He didn't answer right away, instead concentrating on keeping his feet under him when his knees decided to give out. Once he was steady on his feet he glanced at Carson, offering a strangely guarded look. "Thanks."

***

It was dark when he woke.

Opening his eyes, Rodney peered around the infirmary. The head of the bed was angled so he wasn't lying flat, but it gave him a perfect view. He was thankful to Carson for putting him in the main ward without privacy screens, just so he could see everything. It had been hard walking back in.

He hated his weaknesses, especially this one. It grated on him because it was something so illogical, something he couldn’t control once it took hold. It had been manageable—until now.

Carson had given him a little something to set him at ease, which made it easy for him to fall into slumber with Sheppard sitting at his side keeping him company.

So it wasn't much a surprise upon waking to see the Colonel stretched out on the neighboring bed, snoring up a storm. It had certainly looked like he'd needed it.

Shifting in his bed, Rodney went to scratch the itch on his nose and discovered that his hands wouldn't obey his commands, that they were tied to the bed.

This was bad, very bad.

He pulled and tugged, some of his panic quickly re-asserting itself.

Hands on his shoulders forced him back, the commanding voice making him listen.

"Rodney, for Christ's sakes calm down," Sheppard said. "Let me explain before you injure yourself."

"Get them off!"

"When I'm sure you're not going to bolt I will."

Rodney nodded taking a deep breath, trying to calm him frantically beating heart.

"You woke up a little…out of sorts before. You pulled out all the tubes and wires and tried to punch me."

"I did what?"

"You tried to use your rather clumsy right hook on my head. We really need to work on that. Anyway, Biro ordered the restraints so we wouldn't have a repeat of yesterday."

"Get them off," Rodney said, tugging again. "Please." He didn't want to fall apart again. Not now. Not ever again. And not in front of Sheppard.

John gave him a long look, then glanced around. "Fine, but if you try to punch me again, I swear you being sick won't stop me from taking you down." He started loosening the bonds.

"I won't," he said, breathing easier immediately. He hated this. He knew it was all in his head, but sometimes it was just too much.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would. I tried to tell them it was just a nightmare, but Biro's a bit more cautious than Carson. If he isn't cleared to take over the infirmary again soon, I may get myself into trouble."

"That's what we get for letting a pathologist run this place," Rodney grumbled, rubbing his wrists, leaning back heavily into the pillows. "Where's Beckett anyway?"

John smirked. "Got sent to bed like a five-year-old who disobeyed his mommy."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "That must have gone over like a ton of bricks."

"I'd suggest looking up the security tapes when you're feeling better. Great entertainment."

"Security tapes?" The pitch of his voice rose, eyes widening. If there were tapes of Carson that meant his little escape was also taped and there was no way it needed to be immortalized in any way.

John gave him a hard look. "You of all people should know we have cameras set up throughout the parts of the city we use." He gave Rodney an odd look. "And no one but senior staff has authorization to look at them."

"I know, but I hadn’t thought—" Damn. The entire senior staff probably saw it, saw him break down…

"And you know we only bother to look at them if we suspect something's wrong. Personally, there's no way I'm spending my free time watching empty hallways."

For some reason, even though he knew Sheppard wasn't kidding, that he was actually telling the truth, there was just something about having this whole experience on tape somewhere…it was just bad.

"I'm going to try and get some more sleep," he finally said, turning his head away, plucking absently at the tape holding the IV in place in the crook of his elbow. The bandages on the back of both of his hands were just more evidence of his actions.

"Rodney, what's really bothering you?" He could feel Sheppard watching him closely, tracking his movements.

"Nothing," he replied, shrugging his shoulders and trying to settle into the pillow.

"Yeah, and I'm a purple polar bear. Come on, Rodney, I know you better than that."

He turned, looking Sheppard over carefully. "You're right. You're not. You do look tired though. Should I call Biro?"

"Stop trying to change the subject. You only get this quiet when there's something wrong. If everything really was okay, you'd be hollering and terrorizing the nurses."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, sitting up a little more, his words beginning to come fast and heated. "Am I shoving you off balance because I don't want to talk about something for once in my life? Just because I don't feel like sharing yet another humiliating Rodney McKay experience doesn't mean there's something with me. Maybe I'm just sick and tired of dealing with all of this." He waved his arm, forgetting about the IV and getting a pinch for his efforts.

"Jeeze, Rodney, take a deep breath. First of all, what the hell are you talking about? Humiliating experience? Are we talking about the same thing here? Second of all, I'm not 'off-balance', I concerned about my head geek and team member, since he just went through something that gives me nightmares to even think about!"

"I’m sorry if I can't forget the very recent experience of my huddling in fear on an Atlantis balcony somewhere in the city."

"Rodney," John had moved close enough to grab his shoulders again. "You had just regained control of your body after having been possessed for several days by a deranged Ancient. We fixed the deranged part and got him out, but we were concerned you wouldn't still be sane after that. You have nothing to be worried about. If anything, from what Carson said, that was the best reaction he could have hoped for, since it proves your brain is still working and coming to grips. If you hadn't freaked out, we'd be running all sorts of tests and most likely declaring you brain dead."

He huffed, turning his head away. "As if tests weren't still on the agenda to make sure this scientist has all his marbles back in one piece."

"Well, yeah, I won't deny that. But at least you don't have to have tubes shoved up places of the body that should never have plastic in them."

Rodney scowled, watching as Sheppard leaned back, his hands on his hips. "That doesn't make me feel any better you know."

John laughed. "Sorry. That always makes me feel a lot better. You can always say 'this could be worse' if there are no tubes involved."

"It can always be worse. Let me remind you: I have quite the imagination."

"Yeah, but I can almost guarantee you that no nuclear weapons will go off in the infirmary while you're staying here. So there's one more we can cross of the list of ’shit that could suck if it happened.'"

"I'm not so sure about that," Rodney said absently, catching a glimpse of Biro as she turned into the section. He pointed with his chin. "I see an explosion coming."

John leaned close, whispering. "If she asks, it totally wasn't me who took the restraints off."

Rodney leaned back, eyes widening. "And you actually expect her to believe that?" He huffed, not caring that his volume was at its usual level. "It's not like I could have taken them off with my toes. I'm not that flexible."

"Traitor."

"Like you wouldn't rat me out for the same thing."

John opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by the arrival of Doctor Biro.

“Doctor McKay, I see someone,” she gave John a hard look, “has freed you from your restraints. How are you feeling today?” As she talked, she had moved to the side of the bed.

Rodney glared at her. "Fine. Where's Beckett?"

"I've banned Doctor Beckett from the infirmary for the moment unless he relapses or collapses. Now, why don't you two tell me why you thought it was okay to remove the restraints without asking?" She had grabbed Rodney's wrist and was taking his pulse.

"I'd like," he said, trying without success to tug his hand free, "to talk to Doctor Beckett."

"Well that isn't going to happen. You're stuck with me. Now, why don't we try this again? Restraints? Why are they off?"

"Because I wanted them off," Rodney finally freed his hand, crossing his arms over his chest, not caring about the pinch from the IV. "Doctor Beckett at least treats his patients like patients instead of prisoners."

"You've already escaped the infirmary and then tried to assault your team members. The restraints were on to prevent you from hurting yourself." She gave him a hard look. "Stop fighting me, Doctor McKay. We all want to help you get better quickly, but this will only prolong your stay here."

"What's prolonging my stay here, as you no nicely put it, is you insisting that I can't have my actual _doctor_ treating me. Why don't we just make each other's lives so much easier and actually do what the patient wants?"

"Doctor McKay, at the moment, I am your doctor. Doctor Beckett asked me to take over your primary care. In fact, he said it was at your request. If you feel differently now, you'll have to take that up with him. Now, are you going to allow me to check you over, or am I going to have to give you something to calm you down?"

"No."

She sighed with exasperation. "No you won't let me treat you, no you don't need drugs?"

"Both, actually."

"You can't have both. You are going to get fully-checked and have tests run. You can either cooperate with me, or I can give you something to help you relax and put the restraints back on to prevent you from interfering."

"You wouldn't! That's…that's inhumane!" He glared at her, before starting to swing his legs out on Sheppard's side of the bed. "That's it. I'm done."

She grabbed his arm, forcing him back down. She was stronger than she looked. Glaring at Sheppard, she told him not to interfere, then turned back to Rodney. "Look, Doctor McKay it is obvious you don't want to be treated by me, but at the moment you don't have a choice. I sent Carson to bed because he was about to collapse. He's been taking drugs the last few days to stay on his feet, and I couldn't allow him to continue without risking his health. When he's up to it, I'll make sure he stops by to check on you. But until then we need to get you looked over."

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I need you to just leave me alone. I can wait until Beckett's back."

She shook her head. "No, you can't. If Carson were here, he would tell you the same thing. I don't know when he'll be back, and I don't want to wait that long."

"We can. I'm fine. Don't you think I'd complain if there was something wrong?" he said, eyes widening as Biro's free hand rested on the nearby restraint. "Nonononono. I’m fine. Really. All better. Just dandy."

Her voice got quiet. "Please Doctor McKay. I don't want to have to do this to you, but I need to get you looked over."

"And I said that I didn't want you treating me, but did you even pay attention to anything I've said? Am I talking to myself? I'm fine."

She sighed. "Fine, if this is the way you want to do this. Just remember you brought this on yourself." She motioned for several large orderlies to come over, and grabbed his wrist, pulling the restraint over it.

"Nononononono!" he yelled, trying to tug himself free and squirm off the bed at the same time. "Sheppard don't just stand there! Make her let go! I'm fine! Tell her I’m fine!"

John sighed. “I wish I could, Rodney. Trust me, if I didn’t think it would get me strapped to a bed alongside you, I’d be kicking their collective asses right now.” He glared at Biro. “Is this really necessary? Hasn’t he been through enough?”

“I gave him the option, Colonel Sheppard. This was his own decision.” She called for a nurse to bring a relaxant, even as she tightened the straps the orderlies had man-handled into place.

"I'm fine. Why don't you believe me? I'm fine. Let me go. Please don't do this." Rodney tugged at the restraints, still trying to convince her to let him go. He swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest and he was having problems catching his breath. "Please…"

"I'm a doctor, we never believe a patient when they say they're fine, because patients lie all the time in an attempt to get out of the infirmary sooner." She injected something into his IV line. "That should help you relax." Her expression held both pity and determination. "If you'll agree to be examined, I can still remove the restraints. However, this is your last chance. After this, I won't offer again, and if I take them off and you fight me, I will have them put back on, and a guard set to make sure they stay on."

He felt the drug enter his system, but he couldn’t think of anything except how the room was becoming smaller and smaller with every passing second, how it was still so hard to breathe, how he air seemed to be flowing out of the room. "I’m fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," he repeated, more to try and convince himself than anyone else, closing his eyes as he tried to push the walls back.

"Rodney, come on buddy, stay with me!" John was there, gripping his arm. "Get the damn restraints off him! Can't you see they're doing more harm than good?"

“I’m sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but this is a medical decision.” He could feel her watching him, heard her moving to give him a second dose of the drug. “That should put him to sleep. We can examine him that way, and when he wakes up, I’ll consider removing them.”

"Don't touch me," he managed to say even as his eyes threatened to roll back in his head. "Keep your hands off of me." It was hard to be strong and determined when his eyelids were growing heavier and heavier. "Don't…touch…"

"I'm truly sorry, Doctor McKay, but I will examine you, and I will treat you, with or without your cooperation. Now get some sleep. When you wake up, you'll feel better, and this will all be over."

"No," he said, already half asleep. "No. Sheppard get Carson…no…" he said as the infirmary faded away.

***

"You have to get down to the infirmary and put that…Biro into her place."

Carson started up as he was jolted out of sleep by someone yelling at him. "Wha...?"

"I'm about ready to file a malpractice suit and it isn't even me," Sheppard said, yanking the blanket away. "You have got to do something about that woman."

Carson's brain hadn't quite caught up. "Colonel?"

"She's tied Rodney to the goddamn infirmary bed and is treating him against his wishes." The words came fast and hard, dripping with anger. Every movement of his body was sharp, as if it would cut if anyone got too close.

Carson looked down, bewildered. He had stripped to his boxers before going to bed, and it was cold without the blanket. "Wasn't my door locked?"

"I opened it," John said absently. "Would you please just put some clothes on and get down to the infirmary before she manages to make him a total basket-case by the time she's done?"

"What are you talking about? How did you open my door?"

"What?" Sheppard stopped, finally looking at him. "It was an emergency. It unlocks for me." He paused again taking another breath. "Do you want the long or the short version?"

Carson glanced over at the clock next to his bed. An hour. He had fallen asleep an hour ago. He briefly closed his eyes, finally kick-starting his mind into some sort of activity. "You'd better tell me what's got you so worked up."

"The short version it is then," Sheppard said, rubbing a hand across his face. "Rodney woke up not long after he finally settled down and he was a little out of sorts. He tried to do another little escape routine and made an attempt to sucker punch me, but he was too out of it for it to make much of a dent. So, Biro thought it would be a good idea to sedate him a little more and make sure he didn't rip out the IVs and such for a third time by restraining him."

"Aye..." So far that was standard procedure. "So why are you here then?"

"When he woke up about half an hour ago he started having a panic attack and asked for me to take them off. I agreed, seeing that I was awake and he promised he wouldn't try anything. We sat and chatted for a while until Biro decided to make an appearance."

Carson just raised an eyebrow.

Sheppard sighed and rolled his eyes. "Rodney was a tad bit…vocal about his wishes regarding his further treatment."

"Rodney is always vocal about that, Colonel. I generally have to berate him into allowing me to treat his sorry arse."

"Well, Biro decided that man-handling him back into restraints and drugging him off his ass was a better option even when he was yelling and begging her not to and clearly asking to be treated by someone else: namely you."

Carson ran a hand across his face. "I'm on enforced medical leave, Colonel. Lindsay is the one who ordered me on it, and at the moment she's in charge of the infirmary. Didn't she tell Rodney that?"

"Yes, she did. He still asked for other options regarding his medical care. As a patient, he has that right."

"She's the most qualified at the moment. She's a good doctor. She knows what she's doing."

"You're sticking up for her?" He turned and stepped a few paces away before turning back. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you of all people are sticking up for her."

Carson felt his eyes widen in surprise at the intensity of John's anger. "So far all you've told me is that Rodney was being difficult and Lindsay had to argue with him..."

"She knows nothing of his history. You do. He was having a panic attack because of the restraints and the only thing she decided to do was claim it's a 'medical decision' and drug him until he was unconscious. I don't call that handling the situation. I call that being reckless and unfeeling to the patient's health." He paused a minute, pinning Beckett with a glare. "And how do you think Rodney's going to wake up from all of this when they're a guard at the end of his bed and I can't even go in to talk to him because I might 'upset him more'?"

Carson shut his eyes for a moment. When she got irritated, he knew Doctor Biro tended to deal with a situation in the most direct way possible. In this case... He stood up slowly, letting the room stop spinning before moving to where his clothes were draped over a chair. What a time to be cut off from the stimulants. "I'll talk to her. At the very least I'll make sure when he wakes up the restraints are off and you're allowed to be there."

"The damage is already done, Beckett, and if you don't insist on taking over his care…" Sheppard shook his head, his voice trailing off. "Look. I know you had an…argument, but this is ridiculous."

"Colonel, look at me. I can barely stand right now, much less practice medicine. If I take over Rodney's care like this I'm more likely to kill him." Carson was pulling on his pants, grabbing the side of the desk to keep from toppling over.

"Look, I'm sorry," Sheppard said, sighing. "We just got him back and at this rate we might not be able to keep him."

Carson felt the fight go out of him. "Aye, I know. When we get to the infirmary, ask Anne for a handful of stimulants. She's under orders not to give them to me, but if you want me to be of any use whatsoever, I'll need them."

"Can't you just…check him over, calm him down? Not that it matters now since he's unconscious," he sighed again. "Isn't there another doctor around that Rodney won't object to?"

"Since you're here, I'm guessing the answer to your second question is no." Fully dressed now, Carson started heading unsteadily for the door. "I'll stay with him until he wakes up, get him calmed down. Given the state you said he was in, it won't take long for whatever he was given to wear off."

"She gave him two doses."

He turned around, barely keeping his balance. "What? Why?"

Sheppard grabbed an arm steadying him. "To put him under and stop him from begging her to leave him alone? He was already having a hard time staying conscious but she needed him out cold apparently."

"Dear, God. All right, you've been here long enough for them to have completed an exam. Let's get over there and find out what the hell is going on."

Sheppard hung back. "Uh…and about that."

"Please don't tell me there's more?"

"So I shouldn't mentioned that she threatened to do the same to me if I stepped foot back in there without a good reason?"

Carson fought down a hysterical giggle. "I can't walk that far without running into something. I need you to help me, so there's your good reason."

Sheppard grabbed an arm, muttering under his breath. "I'm sure I'll remember that as she's strapping me to the bed."

"No one's strapping you to any beds. Just get me the stimulants when we get there, and I'll resume control of the infirmary. It sounds like the place is falling apart."

"Maybe not falling apart," Sheppard admitted. "Let's just say that she's not you and we're thankful every day for that little fact of life. She doesn't have your bedside manner"

Carson shot him a look. He wasn't sure how to take that, so he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. God he hated being this tired and out of sorts.

***

Lolling his head to the side and groaning, Rodney slowly came back to consciousness; his mouth feeling like something had died in it and sucked all the moisture out at the same time.

His eyelids were heavy but he finally managed to lever them open, the blurry view of an infirmary privacy curtain his first site.

Groaning, he went to rub some of the gunk from his eyes, but found he couldn't.

And then it all came back in a rush.

Oh, God. No.

Adrenaline quickly washed away whatever remnants of the drug from his mind and he tried to sit up, but found a hand on his chest was holding him back.

Sheppard peered at him, his face concerned. "Rodney? I got Carson. He's arguing with Biro now, and as soon as he gets back we're getting these off you."

"Just get them off. I just need—" He tried to take a deep breath, but nothing would come.

Carson walked through the gap in the privacy curtain, his face tight with anger. He motioned to the restraints. "Get them off. Now."

Even as Sheppard was struggling to get the restraints unbuckled, Rodney wheezed, his eyes wide. His body was trembling and he hated everything about this.

Carson reached out and laid one hand on his arm after he had unbuckled the restraints on his side of the bed. "Rodney? Lad, I'm sorry..."

"Oh, God," he muttered, pulling his arms up to his chest, trying to curl up on his side and just let his body shake and get back to normal.

"It’s okay. For now I've resumed control of your care. And if I can't be here, Anne will stand in for me, okay?" He gestured to the nurse hovering nearby.

Rodney nodded his head. "Yes, fine, God, fine, thank you. Can you open…"

"Of course." Carson quickly pulled the privacy curtains back again, letting him see the whole room. "Better?"

He stared out clear across to the other side of the infirmary, feeling not so boxed in. "Yes, thank you," he whispered, finally able to take a few deep breaths, willing his body to relax.

"Good." Carson smiled at him, sitting down in a chair next to the bed. "Now, I've looked over your chart, and physically, there isn't much wrong with you. I'm a wee bit concerned over the panic attacks. You'll probably have them to some degree for a while, and probably nightmares, but they still seem to be a bit too intense for me to be comfortable sending you to your room alone. I'd like you to stay here another day, and then if you're feeling better, I'll let you leave with a mild relaxant that should help. Sound okay?"

"Biro?"

"That's why I've asked Anne to take over if I'm not here. She means well Rodney, her and I just have different opinions on how to handle patient care."

"No kidding," he grumbled, relaxing for the first time without any extra drugs to help him along. He closed his eyes, enjoying the companionship and knowing that both Carson and Sheppard were nearby. He opened an eye after a moment, watching Beckett. "You okay?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Let's focus on getting you back and up on your feet."

Rodney nodded, but didn't look away. "I'm sorry," he finally whispered, letting his breath out slowly.

"For what? None of this is your fault. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you."

Rodney sighed, closing his eyes, feeling his face flush. "I should have listened to you when we were on the Daedalus. You were right. I was exhausted, but after the whole…hive incident…I'd been having problems with small spaces. The quarters on board aren't exactly big."

Carson shook his head. "No, none of this was your fault. I should have just let you go work without interfering. I should have realized something was wrong a lot faster than I did. I should have gotten Durand out faster. I should have been here treating you instead of letting my staff do it. Quite frankly, I wasn't surprised when you asked to have a new doctor."

"I did?" Rodney pushed himself up a little, his arm shaking. "Why would I do that?"

"Lay down, Rodney, you need to relax. And yes, you did, which is why Doctor Biro was handling your care. Ironically enough for the same reason I'm here now, I treated you against your will." Carson looked down at his hands.

"What? The last I remember is getting a shock."

"Which you wouldn't have gotten if I hadn't just bloody drugged you."

"Actually," Rodney said wincing, "I think I deserved it."

"Nae, you were tired, yes, and so was I, but you have the right to refuse medication. As a doctor, I'm supposed to honor that right, and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"I'm guessing we all said some things we shouldn't have," Rodney said, finally lying back down when his arm wouldn't take any more. "But how about we just deal with my much more important panic attacks right now?"

Carson laughed quietly. "Aye, we can wallow in guilt later. As for the panic attacks, I'm afraid there isn't much I can do for you except recommend you see Doctor Heightmeyer; in fact, when I release you that will be one of the conditions. As I said before I can give you something to help you relax and sleep, but I don't want to use anything too strong, since that will only mask the problem."

"Oh, come on," he protested rolling his eyes. "I'm fine. There's no need to bring Kate into this."

"Rodney, you just admitted to me that you've been having trouble with small spaces, not to mention the thought of restraints or even of having privacy curtains pulled around you sets you off." Carson gave him a sympathetic look. "Plus, I'd say if there was any reason to go see a therapist, being trapped in your own mind for several bloody days while another entity took control would be it."

"And what if I tell you I don't remember any of it?" He widened his eyes, trying to look innocent.

"I'd tell you you're a horrible liar."

"Come on," he whined. "A little sleep and I'll be fine."

"Rodney," Carson's voice was quiet. "You need to talk to someone, and I don't know if I can give you the help you need."

He sighed. "Can we wait a little and see how things go?"

"Just set an appointment with her. Humor me. After that, the two of you can decide if you really need it or not."

"I'm not agreeing to anything yet."

"Why not? What harm can there be in agreeing to talk to her for a bit?" Carson tried his best you-can-do-it-try-it-you'll-like-it look.

"She already thinks I’m crazy. She doesn't need any more ammunition."

"She doesn't think you're crazy, Rodney. You just somehow manage to get yourself smack dab in the middle of all the really bizarre situations."

He sighed again. "I'll think about it, okay? But can you just answer one question for me?"

"Aye, what?"

"Who is Nydia?"

***

Carson sat heavily into one of the chairs in Elizabeth’s office, not looking forward to this conversation. She had been insistent this needed to be done now, since Doctor Biro had already been here, and formally requested Carson be temporarily demoted as Chief Medical Officer, seeing as how he was using that authority to override medical leave and had returned himself to active duty to treat Rodney. He had managed to keep that little detail quiet until after they were done explaining everything to Rodney, and he and Sheppard were headed to Elizabeth’s office. Now he was going to have to brief her on everything that had happened, and defend his position here.

When everyone was settled, he figured he would just jump right in and get things started. “Right, as you know, Rodney is doing better. He’s having panic attacks, but given what he’s been through, that’s expected. As long as he doesn’t have another major one in the next twenty-four hours, I’m recommending he be allowed to return to his quarters to finish recovering there.”

"I see," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow as she glanced down at the screen of her tablet PC. "Doctor Biro is…concerned that you're far too close to the patient to be objective, that's it's blinding you to a more serious condition." She paused, her own weariness sliding onto her face before she pushed it away. "The fact that two of my top doctors are having such a difference of option is troubling to me."

Carson slumped further into his chair. "Lindsay is a good doctor, and she means well, I know. But in this case, a patient was specifically requesting me there. Even though I wasn't there, she could have postponed the exam until we could consult. Even if she was still the one doing the exam, I could have convinced Rodney to go along without needing to resort to more drastic measures."

"She only said that she took basic medical precautions," Weir said, her eyes scanning the screen. Apparently she had Biro's report open.

Carson flicked his eyes over to John, then rested them back on Elizabeth. "I was called back to the infirmary because Rodney had been restrained and drugged, which was sending him into a panic attack. In most cases, yes, restraining an unruly patient and giving them something to help them relax is standard procedure. But right now Rodney can't even stand to have the privacy curtains pulled, and the thought of restraints sends him over the edge. This should have been treated as a special case, or at the very least I should have been consulted before that decision was made."

"And you weren't because you were on medical leave. The case was clearly in her hands."

Carson swallowed once, he knew that technically she was right. "Aye, but..." He threw a desperate glance at Sheppard, silently pleading with him to help.

"Elizabeth," Sheppard said finally, leaning forward. "She used unnecessary force. Instead of trying to calm him down—yes, it's hard but not impossible—she drugged him into unconsciousness, using twice the dose of the usual sedative to make sure he couldn't argue with her when she performed her exam."

Carson jumped back in. "I know she was in charge of the infirmary, but I've got the most experience dealing with Rodney, especially when he's feeling obstinate. Even if I consulted as a concerned party and not a doctor, I could have advised her on better ways to deal with him than drugs."

"You're not always going to be available, Carson. That's why we have procedures."

"I know. I'm the one who set them up. But what the bloody hell am I supposed to do when I'm dragged out of bed with tales of how my patients are being manhandled? What choice did I have?"

Weir sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. "So we're supposed to have different procedures with different patients?"

"No…I don't know. All I can tell you is that when Rodney woke up, he was terrified. The restraints were pushing him over the edge. As soon as we took them off, he relaxed again. I'm the first to admit he's a difficult patient, and we can't make exceptions to procedures or we'll have chaos, but we also have to treat the patients as individuals, and there's always more than one way a situation can be handled."

"Infirmary to Doctor Beckett."

"Bloody hell, what now?" He muttered under his breath, before reaching up to his earpiece. "This is Beckett."

"Sorry to bother you, sir," Anne said, sounding a little stressed. "Doctor McKay is insisting on speaking with you."

"It's okay, Anne. Do you have a radio handy you can give him, or do you need me to come down there?"

"I have a radio…"

"Put him on then."

"He's not making a whole lot of sense…It seems he's gotten himself a laptop…"

"And?"

"Something about reports."

"Reports? Anne, luv, I'm too tired to figure this out. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, that's the problem," she said, sighing. "After you left he was fine. He was starting to nap and the next thing I find him hollering at the top of his lungs about anything and everything and none of it makes sense. The only thing that did make sense was his demand to talk to you."

"All right, I'll be right there. Beckett out." He turned to Elizabeth and Sheppard. "It seems Rodney is asking for me. Can we continue this in a bit?"

"Carson." Weir said, her eyebrow raised, her tone clearly indicating that it was not okay.

"Lass, what do you want me to do? Anne said Rodney isn't making much sense, and is demanding to see me. Unless you're removing me as CMO, I need to get down there."

She held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. We're not finished here and I believe we need to get to the bottom of this. Tomorrow morning, first thing."

He flinched, realizing he was going to go another night without much sleep. But he agreed anyway, since he didn't really want to lose his job. "Aye, I'll be here."

"Good," she turned to her PC, glancing up after a moment. "I thought you were leaving."

"On my way." He started back toward the infirmary, wondering what the hell Rodney was up to now.

***

Rodney heard Carson before he saw him and it was about time he got here.

"Anne, I'm here. What's been going on?"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney bellowed, not caring who else was there. He was sitting up in bed, a laptop perched on his knees as he sped through all the reports that had been generated since he was last on Atlantis.

"Never mind, luv." Carson walked in and sat down next to the bed. "And what are we talking about, Rodney?"

"Did you even think to consider all the ramifications before shoving an alien consciousness into the Atlantis mainframe?"

Carson raised an eyebrow. "The console Durand is occupying is separate from the main systems. Radek and some of your staff actually created a whole new database for him, to ensure he was separate. Colonel Sheppard insisted on that actually."

"So the reports claim, but Zelenka can't tell one computer circuit from another and the Ancient systems are totally beyond him—for something as complex as this. I can already see some places they may have missed severing the connections. That's why you're a medical doctor and I’m a scientist."

"Aye, and you were a bit unavailable at the time. We didn't have many options, and most of the alternatives were dangerous to either you or him. This was the only solution we could find that would ensure you both survived it."

"And it was a bad solution!"

"Why do you think it was bad? He's out of you, and he won't do any harm there."

"He was a real life Ancient, Carson!" Rodney's eyes were wide. "We've barely scratched the surface of the mainframe here and he could have proved to be invaluable in the protection of the city—once you were sure he wasn't going to blow it up of course."

"And he still can. The virtual reality system will allow us to go in and visit him, ask him questions. In fact, Radek was supposed to go in just after the transfer to check on him and make sure he made it okay. Once I'm feeling a bit stronger, I plan to do the same." Carson gave him a long look. "I think he'd probably like to talk to you as well."

"If it was set up correctly, which," he said clicking on the track pad, "I doubt."

Carson sighed. "Radek and Durand worked on setting it up together. I'm sure its fine."

Rodney shook his head. "You're not understanding me. From the reports I've seen, I’m highly doubtful that this system worked at all."

Carson sat up, his face going very pale. "What do you mean? I only agreed to it when they assured me it would work safely."

"I doubt Radek would have caught it even if he was looking for it," Rodney said.

"Caught what? And if it didn't work, why didn't Radek say something right away? He tested it afterwards..."

"Radek doesn’t have the gene. He's going to report what the screen tells him." He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "It looks like they set up a sub-section of the Atlantis mainframe. It may at one time been originally created as a virtual reality, but I don't think it was ever completed. For all intents and purposes, he merged with a folder on the Atlantis hard drive and I'm not sure if there's any way to contact him. Do you have any idea the kind of information we've lost?"

"Oh my god. Durand...no. Oh my god." Carson went white. "I'm going down there. If you see Colonel Sheppard, don't tell him where I went. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't approve."

"Carson!" Rodney lunged for him, nearly toppling the laptop onto the floor. "Don't you think about going anywhere!"

Carson dodged him. "Anne, I have something I need to take care of. Keep an eye on Rodney." He headed out the door.

"Matthews! Call Sheppard now! Carson's heading down to the East Pier to do something incredibly stupid!"

"Sir?" Anne looked very confused, looking back and forth between where Carson had disappeared and Rodney.

"Do I look like I’m kidding? Call him now. And," he said, swinging his legs off the bed, "find me a robe."

"Doctor McKay! You have strict orders to stay in bed. I'll call Colonel Sheppard for you, but please stay there."

"I have no plans to allow my friend to fry what little brain he obviously has. Either help me or get out of my way," he said, finding the room spinning a little even as he moved to the door.

She grabbed him, easing him back on to the bed. "Sir, if Doctor Beckett is in danger, you won't be able to help him alone. Please, stay there until Colonel Sheppard arrives." She reached up to activate her headset. "Infirmary to Colonel Sheppard."

"Don't get Sheppard to come here. He needs to go to the room where they stored Durand and I need to go there," he said, pushing her away as he rose to his feet again.

She pushed him down again. "Sir, please." She looked torn. "Colonel Sheppard, please respond. I have a situation."

"Let me go," he said, pushing back. "I have to go before he does something incredibly stupid. We're wasting time."

"Doctor McKay, you won't make it far without my help, and I won't help until I've spoken with Colonel Sheppard."

"I'm fine, just let me go." He said, finally managing to push her back several feet, colliding with the next bed. With his feet finally on the floor, he headed for the door, purposely ignoring the spinning. It would straighten itself out once he got moving.

"Doctor McKay!" She recovered quickly, reaching out to grab his elbow before he could fall. Finally giving in, she steered him toward a wheelchair. "Colonel Sheppard! This is the Infirmary. I really need you to respond, sir." She was starting to sound a bit desperate.

"Yell at the pilot later," he said, resigning himself to the chair. "Just drive now."

Sheppard obviously answered as she straightened, concentrating on something other than him.

“Well, sir, Doctor Beckett just left looking a bit dazed, and now Doctor McKay is attempting to leave and ordered me to call you. He said to tell you Doctor Beckett is heading for the East Pier, which is where he’s trying to go."

She paused again. "Yes sir, just a moment. Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard is asking to speak with you." She handed over the headset.

Grabbing it, he shoved the headset in place. "What?" he said and then turned to Matthews. "And you, drive."

Anne started pushing the chair. "McKay! What the hell is going on?" John sounded irritated.

"Carson is going to try and fry his brain by connecting with the system you just set up to house Durand—which I may say was a horrible idea."

"What?! First of all, the idea was fine, just because you didn't think of it doesn't make it bad. Second of all, what do you mean Beckett's going to fry his brain?"

"One," he began, ticking it off on his fingers, "live Ancient. There's no more I need to share on that point. Two, the virtual reality system was never completed. Whatever you copied over was unfinished."

Sheppard took several moments to curse. "How much of a head start does he have?"

"Too much since you decided to stroll over to where you left your headset. What is that about?" He tried not to think about how small the transporter was.

"I was in a meeting with Elizabeth trying to save that stupid doctor's job! I'm on my way now."

"You really need to listen to me when I call you, you know."

"You weren't calling me, the infirmary was, and I'm sorry if I don't normally listen for anything related to the infirmary, since I don't get calls from there very often. Where are you now?"

"Well, you should know that she was me since I’m not allowed to have a headset yet. And we're…" He paused, looking around. "Where are we?"

"Near the transporter, Doctor McKay. We'll be there in a moment." Anne was sounding a bit aggravated.

"We're going to step into the tiny, tiny excuse for a transporter any minute now."

"Hold it together, McKay, I can't afford to have both you and Carson off your rockers at the same time. God, I need a vacation from scientists and civilians. I'll meet you at the transporter entrance on the other side. Sheppard out."

"Stupid, military…" Rodney grumbled, shutting down the link as the transporter doors opened.

"Ready, Doctor McKay?" Anne paused just outside the door.

He cringed, closing his eyes. "Just be quick."

She laid one hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly before wheeling them in and pushing the button. A few moments later, and she wheeled them out.

Trying to calm his harsh breathing, he opened his eyes, gesturing for her to keep moving.

"Sir, where did Colonel Sheppard say to wait for him?"

"Just go. Carson is down here alone."

She hesitated, but let out a sigh of relief as the transporter lit up and Sheppard himself stepped out. "Rodney, you okay?"

"Carson is down there," he said instead of answering. It was better that way.

Sheppard came over, kneeling down in front of him. "Rodney? I may need you, but if you aren't okay I'm having nurse Matthews take you back."

"Carson could be frying in that chair. We need to move." So what if his body was shaking. It was cold down here. That must be it.

"Rodney." John's eyes were narrowed. "Tell me the truth."

"The truth is that Carson might be hooking himself up to a system I might not be able to get him out of. We need to go now."

John sighed, then straightened up. "We really need to talk about this need-to-be-strong streak you've developed." He started down the hall, heading towards the lab.

"Mock the scientist, why don't you," he muttered, holding his hands so tightly together it hurt, but at least it stopped some of the shaking.

Anne reached over, as she pushed the chair, a small white pill in her hand. "I don't have any water, but if you can dry-swallow, that will help." She said quietly.

He glanced up, surprised. "What is it?"

"Doctor Beckett gave them to me earlier, and told me to give them to you if you started to panic or seem agitated."

Rodney handed it back. "You can keep your sleepy-time drugs, thank you very much." They were almost there.

"They won't put you to sleep. He said you wouldn't accept anything that would. His exact words were "That will take the edge off, let him get control if he starts to feel like he’s losing it.'"

"I'm fine."

She sighed. "Okay, but if you think you need them, please ask. I like Doctor Beckett, sir, and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Neither do I and I’m fine. Perfectly fine."

"Actually you aren't, sir. You're having a mild panic attack, as evidenced by the tenseness in your frame, and the way you're shaking. If you feel you can be at your best that way, I won't make you take these, but I thought I would offer them, since Doctor Beckett gave them to me for just this type of attack."

They rounded the corner into the room and saw Sheppard hovering over Beckett who was in the active chair.

Oh no.

***

Carson hurried his steps as he headed out of the infirmary, hearing Rodney order Anne to call Colonel Sheppard. He didn’t have much time to get down there, and he needed to check on Durand.

God, what if it hadn’t worked? What if he had helped kill Durand, or sent him into some sort of limbo? He had to fix this.

He made it to the transporter, hearing Anne calling for Colonel Sheppard to respond through his headset. Then he didn’t hear anything else, so he had to assume they had managed to get him.

Moving swiftly towards the lab, Carson was almost running. He needed to do this, but if they caught him, they would stop him.

He rounded the corner, the chair still empty, although now he could hear voices behind him. They were moving fast—faster than he had thought they could with Rodney still weak. He sat down in the chair, momentarily afraid. Then he saw a shadow coming around the corner—Colonel Sheppard. Before the man had time to say anything, he mentally activated the chair, telling it to send him to Durand.

Pain, darkness, light, swirling all around him. Before he had a chance to call out, he felt himself get washed away.

***

"Don’t just stand there, get him out of that chair!" Rodney yelled, nearly rising out of the chair to do it himself until Anne shoved him back down with her hands on his shoulders.

"Sir! Please!" Anne sounded a bit hysterical.

“Rodney, if I pull him out, while he’s connected to it, won’t that damage him?" Sheppard was hovering, hesitating to do something irreparable, but wanting to do something.

"I don't know," Rodney grumbled, "He's the voodoo practitioner here. I just read the specs on this thing and then he goes and runs off when I'm trying to yell at him for creating it in the first place."

"Rodney, focus! We need to do something." He gestured to Carson, whose body had gone stiff, pain creasing his face.

"I know, I know, but God, why did he have to do something so stupid? Why doesn't anyone listen to me anymore? I need to…" he began and then managed to shove himself out of the wheelchair and stumble over to the chair, sliding down behind it. Hitting the radio he was still wearing, he spoke as soon as the channel activated. "Zelenka, I need you to get down to the VR room you created and bring tools."

There was spluttering on the other line that sounded like Czech, along with a "Fine, fine, I will come."

“Rodney, what are you doing?” John came around behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"Working. What does it look like I’m doing?"

"Rodney..." Sheppard somehow managed to make his name four syllables.

He sighed, glaring up at the Colonel. "Right now I'm trying to open the back panel of the chair with my bare hands because I have no tools yet so I can get at the inside circuits to check on the power connections."

"Will this help?" He pulled a small screw driver out of his vest.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, grabbing it from his hands and turning back to the chair. "And why didn't you mention it five minutes ago"?

"I always have it, part of the standard gear, and you didn't ask."

"I'm not supposed to have to ask," he grumbled, the rear panel popping off. He stuck his left hand back out even as he leaned forward to peer into the space. "Flashlight."

John wordlessly handed over a small pen light.

The hand went back up. "PowerBar."

"What am I a vending machine?" John griped, but he handed one over.

Rodney glanced up, half-smirk on his face. "No. Vending machines don't complain as much as you do." He turned back to the panel, his right hand unerringly touching and checking circuits while his left held onto the flashlight, the PowerBar momentarily forgotten in his lap. He had to concentrate to keep his hand steady. He hated this.

Anne suddenly came up to his other side. She wordlessly held out the small pills again.

He glanced over, sighing. He hated those things.

"Sir," she said quietly, "I can see your hands shaking. Doctor Beckett wouldn't have left you anything he felt would impair your ability to think. He knew how much you didn't want to feel drugged right now."

"They still make things fuzzy." He wiggled his fingers, watching absently as they shook. "I can't afford to be right now."

"They won't make you fuzzy. They'll only take the edge off your panic, calm you. Sir, I don't want to see anything happen to Doctor Beckett. I wouldn't give these to you if I thought they would affect you that much. They are the mildest relaxant we have in the infirmary, and are what Doctor Beckett was planning to give you once he released you, to take on as as-needed basis."

Rodney sighed, holding his hand out. "Fine. But I’m taking them under duress."

"Rodney, just take the damn pills." John poked him in the shoulder. "Stop giving the poor woman a hard time. She's only trying to help."

He dry swallowed the two small pills before turning to Sheppard. "And if I make some horrible mistake because I can't think as clearly as I normally do, what then? Huh? Just let me work."

"Yeah, and if you accidentally cross a wire because your hand is shaking, that's better?"

"There're backup systems. Beckett would be fine," he said absently, pulling out a small crystal and checking it.

"Right, which is why you called me and told me he was going to fry his brain."

He sighed again, leaning back to glare at Sheppard. "Would you rather get down here and do this since you seem to know exactly what the problem is?"

"That's all right. It's my job to make sure you eat and don't need anything, making brilliant comments along the way. Speaking of which—" He pointed at the forgotten PowerBar.

Rodney scowled, but dropped the flashlight and reached for the bar, ripping it open and taking a bite. "Happy?" he asked around a mouthful.

"Yup. Now, get back to work. Slacker."

He glanced around, the room spinning a bit before settling down. "I'd like to, but there's only so much I can do without tools or scanners. Where is Zelenka?" He went to reach for his headset again, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Rodney, are you sure you're up to this?" All traces of humor were gone from Sheppard's face.

"I’m fine. I need tools. Scanners. And Zelenka."

"Rodney, this isn't a good time for heroics. Beckett wouldn't thank you if you hurt yourself trying to save him."

He pulled his arm from Sheppard's grip. "Right now I need to work. Sheppard…John…just leave it at that, please."

The Colonel gave him a hard look. Then looked up at the hovering nurse. "Matthews, if he gets to the point where you think he medically needs to be back in the infirmary, tell me and I'll haul him out."

"Yes, sir," she replied even as Rodney sputtered.

"You don't answer to him," he said, pointing toward Sheppard. "Actually, I think your department falls under my jurisdiction, so don't listen to him at all."

Anne smiled slightly. "Actually, sir, Doctor Beckett put me in charge of your care, and asked me to keep an eye on you. I'd say that means I don't answer to either of you, but I will accept Colonel Sheppard's gracious offer of help if I feel I need it."

He scowled, narrowing his eyes. "Traitor."

"Your health is my primary concern, sir."

He turned back toward the door, pointedly ignoring her and the moving walls around him. "Where is Zelenka?"

"Zelenka is here, and welcome back to you as well. Glad to see you are feeling better, and no, I did not work myself to bone trying to save your sorry behind. Glad to be of service." The Czech dropped down next to Rodney. "Now, why is Doctor Beckett in the chair, and what is going on?"

"What are you sitting down for? I need you to connect that tablet to the system over there and give me that scanner. I need to check how you routed the power to the chair in case we need to interrupt it."

"Why would we interrupt it? We set it up specifically so power flow would never be interrupted, so as not to accidentally erase Durand."

"Nononono. See this is what I'm talking about. The chair is just the access point. The power—most of it that matters for this little experiment anyway—is where it's supposed to be in the main computer systems over there. But right now, Beckett—brilliant man that he is—completed the circuit and activated the chair to access the memory core. Without his direct approval, I'm not sure how to disconnect him and I need to find out how."

Zelenka eyed him carefully. "Why would you want to disconnect him? He had mentioned wanting to check on Durand, yes, and I had thought he would wait until he was feeling better, but that he does it now, this does not surprise me. What is going on?"

"Did you even look at the specs of this system?" Rodney shook his head. "Look, forget about it, just go and connect to the system. I'll be there in a minute." He turned, turning on the small scanner and pointing it toward the access panel.

"Of course, I looked at system! It is far beyond me, so Durand, he tells me how to connect it so it will work properly. I re-routed power, and ran tests, but actual program is of Ancient design." Radek rose and started connecting his laptop to the console as he talked.

"And it doesn't work! Or at least it shouldn't according to the reports I read."

"You read reports already? Do you not ever stop working? And we tested it. It should work perfectly."

"Of course I read the reports and of course it's going to work when you test it exactly as he asked." Rodney rolled his eyes.

"How else do you suggest I test it? I do not read Ancient, and few translations we have are in English, which, may I point out, is not my native tongue either. If actual Ancient comes along and tells me 'this says this, do it this way' I believe him."

"Just…just forget about it. Connect to the system and let me finish here."

Zelenka rolled his eyes. "Tell me again why I save you? Ancient scientist, he does not berate, works with me instead of ordering me around."

McKay felt his mouth twist. "That's the same question I asked Beckett."

"Beckett was insistent on saving you both. That is, in fact, why we use this system to begin with."

"Hello, Ancient scientist! That's a no-brainer." Rodney shook his head, checking the readings on the small screen on the scanner, reaching in to switch a few crystals around.

Rodney could feel Zelenka watching him. "And you are resident genius, are you not? I would not call that no-brainer. If we could not save you both, we would have saved just you."

"Do you have any idea the sheer amount of information he could have given us? And the trouble-shooting abilities. No amount of genius can stand up to the real thing." Satisfied with the way the power flow had been re-routed, he nodded, leaning down to check one other thing.

“He was real Ancient, yes, but also disturbed. He did not have easy life, was abused by those in power. Plus, he did not always think as we do. Personally, he gave me what Colonel Sheppard calls ‘the willies.’ Doctor Beckett was the only one he really spoke with for any length of time.”

John had pulled Anne to the side, where they were both out of the way. Her eyes were a bit wide, going back and forth between the working scientists. “Hey, as long as they’re disagreeing, you know everything’s okay. It's only when they start agreeing with each other that you have a problem.”

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to."

Rodney scowled at Sheppard for a moment before flicking the scanner off. He slid back a few feet, giving himself room to climb to his feet. About half-way up he wobbled.

"Rodney." Sheppard had jumped forward to grab him before he could fall. "I'm not sure this is a good idea. Why don't we let Zelenka finish up here?"

"I need to look at the interface he just hooked up and I can't reach it from here," he grumbled, leaning far too heavily on Sheppard than he wanted to.

Sheppard motioned for Anne to bring the wheel chair over, keeping a tight grip on Rodney while he waited. "Fine, but you're doing it from the chair. I don't want you to fall and crack your head open since the only guy I trust to put you back together is currently having his brain fried, okay?"

"As if the silent man in the scary chair wasn't enough of a reminder." Rodney scowled, but didn't argue as they settled him down, moving him toward the other side of the room where Zelenka watched quietly, concern on his face.

"Rodney, as much as your ego does not need boost, please do not do yourself permanent injury. I do not want your job, and as much as it pains me to admit, you are better qualified for it anyway." Zelenka handed the interface down, setting it on Rodney's lap.

"That's not the plan," he muttered, scrolling quickly through the screens. "Huh."

"Huh, what does huh mean?" John was looking over his shoulder again.

He waved Sheppard away, nearly smacking him with the gesture as he looked up to Zelenka. "Are you sure your report is accurate?"

"From what I remember, yes. However, I had been awake forty-eight hours, working on first building Ancient device from blueprints and scavenged devices, then hooking up virtual reality system." He shrugged. "When I am tired, English is irritating to translate. Why?"

"Your English isn't the problem. This is," he turned the tablet to Zelenka. "This is nothing like what you created."

Radek's eyes got wide. "That is not what I programed."

"No kidding. It's being re-written from the inside."

"But, why... I can only assume it is Durand doing it. He is not attempting to access our main database, so what is he attempting to do?"

"I don't know and I can't tell from here." He shoved the tablet fully into Zelenka's hands as he wheeled himself back to the chair, fiddling with a different section.

"What are you doing now? Rodney, this is not time for surprises."

"Working," he said, sing-songing the word as the panel finally came off with a tug.

Radek let out a string of curses in several languages. He set the laptop down and came over to where Rodney had his arms already inside the panel. A brief spark made the man in the chair whimper slightly, the first noise he had made since they arrived.

"Damn," Rodney muttered. "Okay…I think I have it."

"Have what? Rodney, what the hell are you doing?" John was by his side again.

Rodney glanced at Carson before glancing up at Sheppard. "You might want to call for a medical team, just in case this doesn't work."

He offered an apologetic glance to the man as he gripped several connections inside the arm of the chair with his hand, completing the last circuit.

"Rodney! Stop!" Sheppard lunged at him, but it was too late.

The room around him dissolved, sending him into complete darkness. Crap.

***

He floated, lost. He was pain, and he existed, drifting in darkness. He had no awareness beyond pain, no understanding of what or who he was.

Suddenly, light, where there should be no light, and he realized pain was not what he had been feeling. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream.

Then warmth where it wasn’t expected, soothing the pain away. His screams died, and suddenly, he was aware again. He was Carson. He did not yet know what that meant, but he could feel another there, so he waited to see what would happen.

"You should not be here."

He thought about that. "Who are you?"

"Think. Concentrate."

"No..." Pain, that was all he could remember. Even as he thought of it, the darkness seemed to press in on him.

"You are safe. We will not hurt you."

He whimpered, afraid. "Why am I here? Who am I? Who are you?"

"Be calm and concentrate. You know me. You must come to these things on your own. Breathe and concentrate. You've done it before."

The voice was holding the darkness away, so he was willing to trust it. Knew, somehow, that he had trusted it before. He thought hard, trying find his missing memories. "I am Carson. Right?"

"Yes. Very much so." It sounded amused.

He felt happiness that the voice was pleased. He wanted it to be proud of him. That sparked another memory. "Atlantis. I am from a place called Atlantis, aren't I? Carson from Atlantis," he sing-songed.

A quiet chuckle whirled around him. "Yes. Concentrate."

"Okay." He kept searching, looking for more memories. "I think…do I help people? I think I might like that."

"Yes, Carson, you do. You helped me."

"I did?" Wow, he had helped the nice voice. He liked that. "Good."

"But now, you're hurting yourself."

That seemed to make the voice sad, which made him sad. "Why am I doing that?"

"Because you care too much sometimes. Look too far under the surface."

He frowned, not sure what that meant, why that wasn't a good thing. "Why is that bad? If I help people, I have to care, don't I?"

"Because you end up hurting yourself." There was a pause before the voice continued. "You should not be here, but I'm not sure I can make you leave."

"Are you mad at me?" Carson cringed, hoping the voice wouldn't send him back into the darkness.

"No. Worried that you won't be able to get back to where you belong, to the friends you have."

"I have friends?" That sparked another memory. "Rodney. And John. They're my friends, aren't they?"

"Yes. Yes, they are. And you must go back to them."

"No! I...came here for a reason. Something was wrong. What was it?"

"There is nothing wrong. Please go back."

He was suddenly very tired. "Who are you? Why can't I remember? Can I rest first?"

"No! You can't…you shouldn't be here. It's not finished and it's harming you. Please concentrate and think of Atlantis and your friends. I cannot…I don't have the energy to send you back."

"I'm so tired though. It hurts to think anymore." He was starting to drift again, and the darkness was coming back. He was afraid, but he couldn't seem to stop it.

"Oh, no," said the voice, despair wrapped up with fear.

"Don't be sad. I don't want you to be sad. I think that's why I came. I was afraid you were unhappy." He struggled a bit, trying to focus.

"The one you call Rodney is here as well, but he is far weaker than you and I fear that unless you help him he will be lost. Please, Carson, concentrate."

"Rodney? He shouldn't be here." Carson struggled, fighting the darkness that was dragging him down. "Help me. I...I'm afraid. What should I do?"

"There is no need to be afraid. Atlantis will protect you, but you must be strong. Go to him. If you help him, I believe you will have enough to return to the others." The voice paused. "I will be safe here. When it is safe for you to return I will send a signal. Will that ease your mind?"

"Do you promise? I think I'll only come back if you don't." He sensed a third awareness, weaker than the voice, floating nearby, and he tried to move towards it as he spoke.

"I promise," he said, a smile in the words. "Go now. Rodney is weakening quickly."

He obeyed the orders, finally getting close enough to grab the other awareness. It was solid, not just a warmth around him like the voice was. "Now what? What should I do?"

"Concentrate. Let yourself feel. You will know the way from there." The voice was fading, to be replaced by a muttering chant, a nervous energy.

"Nononononono. Too dark. Too dark. Must find him. Must find him. Sheppard's gonna kill me. Kill me. But it's dark…too dark."

Carson wanted to cry. The pain from the darkness and the awareness starting to press too closely. "Stop, please stop! I can't concentrate unless you stop!" He wrapped his arms around the awareness, trying to share some of the fading warmth from the voice with the other.

The other awareness, voice, seemed to hear him, but the mutterings continued, only lowering in volume and intensity.

"Rod-ney. That's who you are, isn't it? The voice said I need to bring you back."

The muttering stopped for a moment, silence growing between them. "Yes. Carson?"

"I think so. That seems right. And I help people, right? In Atlantis? That's what I can remember."

"Yes. But I came to help…find…but it's dark and I'm lost and tired. So tired…"

"Yes, the voice says we have to concentrate on leaving. He promised to tell me when it was okay to come back, but that it isn't safe to be here right now. I'm afraid. I don't want the darkness to come back. Don't leave me, okay?"

"Don't think I can…"

"But we have to. Concentrate I mean. He says we have to think really hard. About Atlantis and going back to our friends. But you're one of my friends!" He felt a momentary burst of panic. If his friend was here, how could he go back? But there was another one. "John. He's my other friend, right? Think about going back to him."

"John was there. Angry at me…" He paused and then Carson suddenly felt an increase in awareness, of energy. "You need this."

"What?" Suddenly he could remember more. "Rodney! You shouldn't be here! We need to leave." He pushed, thinking hard about returning, about leaving. Just before he felt the darkness slide away completely, he called back to the voice. "Remember, you promised!"

"I remember. Take care of him. He knows more than you think."

"I will. Durand."

And then, suddenly, there was light, too much light. And noise. He heard someone call his name, call Rodney’s name. But before he could respond, tell them he was okay, he felt himself falling into a different kind of darkness. This one bringing not pain, but silence and rest.

***

Rodney came back to consciousness slowly, groaning.

"I thought I said I'd kill you if you ever did that to me again." Sheppard's voice floated over to him.

"Wha…?" He just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Why the hell did you do that? We could have lost both of you!"

He groaned again, the loud voice screaming through his head. Sleep. Maybe if he could just sleep it would all go away.

"Come on, Rodney. Wake up, buddy. I need to know if you damaged anything that time."

"Tired…"

"Yeah, Matthews said you're suffering from exhaustion. But you need to wake up for a little while, get some solid food in you if you can, then I'll let you sleep."

He groaned, trying to open his eyes, trying to listen, but they were too heavy. Too much.

There was a hand on his arm, shaking him slightly. "Come on. I really need to know you're okay."

"Can't…need…sleep."

Sheppard sighed. "All right. Sleep then. I'm just happy you woke up this much, enough to know you aren't in a coma or anything. We'll chat about how you aren't allowed to do insanely stupid things like that ever again when you feel a bit more alert."

Rodney sighed, letting out a long breath as the edges of slumber encroached again. "Thanks…Carson…"

"We'll chat when you wake up." Sheppard's voice held an undertone of anger. "Sleep now."

"Sleep…"

And he did.

***

Carson stared at the white ceiling of the infirmary, counting tiles. He had heard the Colonel come in, heard the murmurs that meant he was talking to Rodney. That was good. Hopefully Rodney was going to be okay.

Soft footfalls made him wince, since he was pretty sure he recognized them. Pushing himself up slightly, he came face to face with a very unhappy Elizabeth Weir.

“Elizabeth—”

"Would you care to explain this?"

He felt his face harden slightly. "I was informed that a patient could be in danger, and I took steps to check on him. I ordered Rodney to stay here, and keep Colonel Sheppard out of it. I don't know why he was down there."

"You really expect him to stay behind when he was the one who discovered something was wrong? Carson," she said, closing her eyes for a moment, "Biro's not even sure if he's going to be okay. She thinks it's exhaustion…"

He slumped back into the bed. "He read a report, Elizabeth, and he was still bedridden. How was I supposed to know he would bully my staff into bringing him down there? And he will be fine, it's just exhaustion. I felt him give me some of his energy, to break us both free. Durand didn't have any extra to spare, and I didn't have enough to get us both out. I didn't realize until afterwards what he had done."

"And what exactly happened? I'm interested to know how both my chief scientist and medical officers are once again in the infirmary."

He closed his eyes. "I remember floating. It was dark, and...painful. I didn't have any memory of who I was or why I was there. Durand found me, forced me to focus enough to remember some. He told me I needed to leave, that it wasn't safe, and he would send us a signal of some sort when it was. He's the one who told me Rodney was there, and weak, and showed me how to break us both free."

She shook her head, disbelief in her eyes. "I'm not sure what to say at this point, Carson. You risked not only your life, but Rodney's too. And what if John had decided to just disconnect to two of you, what then? You should have heard him and Doctor Zelenka when neither of your would respond."

"I did'na ask them to come down! In fact, I knew it wasn't the safest thing to be doing, which is why I specifically told them not to! But Elizabeth, Durand was in there because of me. I convinced John to go with that solution. Do you have any idea...I couldn't have lived with myself if I just let it go, never knowing if I had killed someone without trying to help."

"So you decided to check out the neighborhood without any kind of support and without any regard for your own life?"

"What kind of support could anyone have offered? I knew if I gave them a chance to do anything, I was increasing the odds of Rodney doing something stupid. I underestimated how fast he could respond, yes, but I'm a doctor. If it comes down to a choice between risking my own life to help someone, and choosing to stay safe by leaving them alone, I'll always take the first option. I have to!"

"But Durand was out of your hands. He'd chosen the course he wanted. Why couldn't you leave it at that?"

"He wasn't and still isn't out of my hands. Every living creature is my patient and my responsibility. I have to do everything I can to keep them alive and well. I treated him the same way I treat everyone else—if I simply gave up on everyone who choose a self-destructive course, we wouldn't have much of an expedition left at all." He clenched his fists in the sheets. He had to make her understand.

"Carson," she said after nearly a minute, her voice weary. "I admire your dedication to your patients, I really do, but you did everything you could. You gave him two possibilities and —let me remind you—you approved of the one he ultimately picked. But it was his decision. You, in good conscience, cannot run after every single patient when a course of treatment doesn't go as expected. Just like you can't stop someone from going back out in the field after you've patched them up."

He looked away. "Durand said I care too much, too deep, to the point where I'll allow myself to come to harm in an attempt to help someone else. Maybe he's right. Maybe I shouldn't care that much. But I can't help it, Elizabeth. This wasn't a case of me treating someone and letting them go back into the field. It was like finding out I had cut off the wrong limb, and the person was dying because of my mistake."

"That's something you'd never do," she said, her voice firm. "We're…I'm just worried about the recklessness I'm seeing in you. I expect it in John, even Rodney to a certain degree, but you were my anchor—the voice of reason even when I didn't want to hear it. What changed?"

He swallowed hard. All the faces of the people he had indirectly killed since coming here flitting in front of his eyes. The Hoffan people. Michael. All those Wraith-turned-humans. "I don't want to lose anyone else. I...Elizabeth I've hurt so many people, I don't know if I can bare to lose any more. I have to...have to make up for it somehow."

"And you do, everyday." Her eyes were firm and kind. Moving forward, she rested her hand on his arm. "You continue to put us back together when we fall apart. I could never ask for someone more dedicated, kind, or caring. Just think about the people here, your friends and colleagues, while you have a little time." He offered a weak smile. "I think Doctor Biro is going to let you get back to work once you've rested a little while longer."

"Aye. Thank you. I'll try, and I'll think about what you said."

"Please do," she said, patting his arm as she moved away, revealing a hovering John Sheppard in the background.

"She's right, you know," he said, pulling up a chair and settling into it.

He closed his eyes, knowing he was closer to tears than he really liked. It had been a long week. "You were listening."

"Not intentionally and not for the whole thing. Caught the end mostly."

He sighed. "I never intended for Rodney to follow me."

"But you know how he is. You should have heard the panic in his voice. He was scared, worried that something might happen." His clothing rustled as he shifted. "And he was right, as usual."

Carson shuddered slightly, knowing better than John how close they had come to losing Rodney again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't seem to be making many good decisions lately."

"I just wish you hadn't rushed into it. We could have gone down together as a group to check. It took Rodney all of five minutes to know something had changed and then, he had to act on it." He paused. "I just wish you would have talked to me, trusted me."

"I...didn't think you would care. Your priority was always Rodney, where it should have been. I was the only one who was divided, insistent on saving them both."

"And if you talk to Rodney, he was upset that you did!" Sheppard paused. "Which is part of an entirely different conversation I need to have with him when he'll stay awake longer than half a second. How a genius like him could even think that we'd rather have an Ancient walking around in his body instead of him is beyond me."

"He doesn't realize how much we need him. For an intelligent man, he can be a bit dense sometimes." Carson shook his head.

"No kidding," John said, chuckling lightly. "Applies to someone else I know, too."

Carson felt his cheeks redden. "I, ah... My patients' lives come before my own, Colonel. But, I see yours and Elizabeth's point. Maybe I have been a wee bit reckless lately. It just hurts to think of losing someone else when there could still be something I can do to save them."

"Trust us. Let us help you."

"I'll try." He cleared his throat, and tried for an unobtrusive swipe of his sleeve across his face. "So, ah, how's Rodney doing?"

"Sleeping, like you should be for a bit."

He managed a short chuckle. "Aye, I must admit, I'm feeling a bit worn out."

John patted his arm. "I imagine so. Get some rest. When you wake up, it'll be time to gang up on Rodney I imagine—if he's awake by then. I'm just grateful he slept through Biros' exam. I can't imagine the fuss he would have made…"

Carson smiled at him. "Aye, time to put Rodney through the ringer a bit. And Colonel? Thanks."

"Anytime, Carson. Anytime."

***

Rodney knew he woke up several times over the course of the next day or so, only to quickly fall back to sleep even though various people—Carson, Sheppard, Weir, Zelenka, and Anne—demanded he stay awake.

He was just so tired.

The last time he woke it was sometime in the middle of the night and Sheppard was sprawled in a chair next to the bed, head back, snoring up a storm. If only he had a picture of the drool.

He was finally awake though. Tired, yes, but not the all-out exhaustion from before. His eyes drifted closed again and he took a deep breath, relaxing back into the mattress, enjoying the feeling of not having to be anywhere or do anything. He shifted, the bed creaking a little, and the rattle of Sheppard's snores stopped suddenly.

"Decided to join the living again?" The words were still a bit sleep-slurred.

"Wha…" he said, or at least tried to, but his voice was a little weak and rusty.

"You've been sleeping the better part of several days. We were starting to get worried." Sheppard was more awake now, and had sat up to see Rodney's face better.

"Was tired," he said, shifting a little, his eyes glancing around the area. "Water?"

"Yeah. You've been through quite a bit. Here." A straw appeared in front of Rodney's mouth.

He took a sip, letting the cool wetness swirl around his mouth before he swallowed. He took another mouthful before nodding. "Thanks." It felt better but his voice wasn't as loud as normal. "And I did talk to Anne."

"Ordering someone to shut the hell up so you can sleep isn't really talking, McKay." Sheppard sounded amused.

"Maybe in your world it isn't." He paused, letting his eyes wander around the empty room. "What time is it anyway?"

John glanced at his watch. "Early. 0600. That's why it's so quiet."

"Oh." He glanced at the Colonel. "I woke you. Sorry."

"Nah, I've been catching sleep at odd hours. I'm all turned around, so nothing to worry about."

"Okay," he said, shrugging. "Then forget I apologized."

Sheppard grinned. "Forgotten."

"Good. Now that we've gotten past that, I should consider sleep again. God, I can't seem to get enough of it."

"Yeah, about that. What do you remember about your little trip? Carson told me what he can remember, but I'm trying to get to the bottom of exactly what happened."

"What do you mean?"

Sheppard sighed. "I just want to know what the hell happened to you two in there. Why you followed him in to a potential 'brain fry' situation in the first place is another conversation we'll be having shortly as well."

Rodney shifted uncomfortable by the question. "I don't remember much, actually. I went in thinking that I had to make sure Carson could get out. At the rate things were changing in there, I knew something was wrong and Carson wouldn't know what to look for or what to do. But, it wasn't anything I was expecting."

"What were you expecting? How was it different?"

"I expected…logic, order. Instead it was chaos and darkness." He paused, feeling his cheeks reddening. "I couldn't think much past that, actually."

Sheppard looked at him, his face thoughtful. "Beckett said it was like drifting in darkness and pain with no awareness other than that. He told us it was Durand who somehow helped him get it together enough to get you both out again."

"The sheer lack of…order…" he shivered, thinking back, his chest tightening a little.

"Doesn't sound pleasant. Which makes me wonder why you felt the need to go in there in the first place. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I didn't expect it to be like that! Durand's an Ancient! They're logical, ordered, precise. I figured a little tap on Carson's shoulder to remind him about us and we'd be out."

"He was in pain! Even before you made him whimper, you could see it on his face. Did that look like ordered and logical to you?"

"Maybe it was…lunch related, or something…I don't know. I just had to get him out of there. I didn't want him to be caught in something if Durand was still altering it, changing it. What if he's gotten pulled into the whole VR matrix? We would have never gotten him back."

"Fine, I can understand wanting to get him out, but by following him in? Rodney, we nearly lost both of you. I was about ready to have Zelenka pull the plug on the whole thing to try and get you both out. I can usually count on you to stay as far away from potentially life-threatening situations as possible. Why did you deliberately go in there?"

Rodney looked at the Colonel for a long moment before turning away, his gaze resting on something on the other side of the room. "It was my fault he was there in the first place. I didn't…anticipate his reaction to what I told him about the VR environment."

"What is it with the two of you and the whole guilt thing? Did you snort something when we left you in the jumper on Sateda? Because he gave me the same lame excuse about it being his fault you were in that position. No one was at fault for anything, it was just bad luck."

"Just let it drop, Sheppard."

"No, I'm not letting it drop. Rodney, talk to me. What's really wrong here?"

"Nothing." He shifted, rolling his weight to turn on his side away from the Colonel.

"Rodney, look, when has ignoring me ever worked? I can be damn irritating when I put my mind to it, and I want to know what's going on. What's with the comments about Beckett saving Durand instead of you?"

"Trust me on this. An Ancient is worth far more than me."

"Now, see, that's where you're wrong. I wouldn't want an Ancient on my team. I don't really think I'd like to spend my free afternoons annoying an Ancient. I really don't think I'd like to see what choices an Ancient would have for team movie night. Not only that, but the guy lived thousands of years ago in a really different universe. Quite frankly I'd rather have you by my side snarking at me than an Ancient any day."

Rodney turned back to him, knowing his emotions were on the surface. "There's going to come a time when I can't fix the city anymore and people are going to die. I’m not talking about one or two, I'm talking lots of them. It's not going to be pretty and it's going to be damn painful, but at that very moment you'll know exactly what I mean."

"No, Rodney, because if that moment ever comes, I'll know you did pretty much anything that could have been done, because honestly, you're far smarter than that guy was. He might have the gene, but hey, so do I. Just point out what you want blown up, and I'll take care of it for you. But the fact remains that you are the only person I want standing beside me fixing the science stuff while I protect you. Because he might be an Ancient, but we have a lot of technology that wasn't Ancient, and you're still finding and exploring new stuff. He would have been stuck on only using what he knew. You're innovative and brilliant, and that's a potent combination."

"And I know nothing compared to him!"

Sheppard ran a hand though his hair. "Look, maybe I'm not saying this right. Rodney, you're the reason we're doing this. Atlantis, all of it. You push the rest of us to be smarter, better, and you remind us why we're fighting. An Ancient may be smart, but has some serious issues about morality and right versus wrong. I wouldn't fight to protect him, wouldn't give my life to give him a few more minutes to work."

"You don't know that from all of a day of talking to him. In the grand scheme of things I'm the lesser model, trust me."

"I do know that from a day of talking to him. He was perfectly okay with abandoning this galaxy when things got rough, because the people on those planets didn't matter. They weren't Ancients. We can't do this without you. We need you here to shoot down our ideas when we get it wrong, to inspire us to be better. Damn it, Rodney, you're my friend, and I can't remember the last time I could say that."

Rodney looked at him for a long moment, before shaking his head. "That was a nice speech, Colonel. Practice it in front of the mirror before you came in here?"

He let out a long sigh. "No, actually, and I really wish I never had to say any of that, because when you're feeling better, I know I'm never going to hear the end of it. If I had known you were going to push me to say it, I might have just pretended to stay asleep. Face it, Rodney, you're stuck with me."

"Well, on that note, I think it's past my bedtime. Night, Colonel," he said, rolling over onto his side, his back to Sheppard. In his mind the conversation was closed.

John started poking him in the back.

He grunted, but ignored him.

The Colonel only poked harder. "Rod-ney," he sing-songed.

"What?" He pushed the word out through gritted teeth.

John continued to poke.

"What are you twelve?" Sighing, he finally turned over, not intending to swing his arm…or land a rather awkward punch.

"Ow! You just punched me! Geeze, this is the thanks I get. Try to convince the scientific genius that when it comes to people he doesn't know squat and isn't in any way shape or form irreplaceable, and he punches you."

Rodney could feel his eyes were wide in shock. "I didn't mean to…but it's your own fault for sitting so close and aggravating me. And you're not even bleeding."

"It could be broken. I think you broke my nose. I'll be forever scarred. People will point at my crooked nose, and say things like, 'That's what happens when you tell Rodney McKay the truth. He goes and hits you.'"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Like I said. No blood. No broken bones. Go back to sleep. You were much more peaceful when you were snoring."

Sheppard batted his eyes at him. "And he isn't ever sorry he broke my nose. First he thinks I lie to him, then he isn't sorry when he punches me. I'll be known as Rodney's Bane."

Rodney shook his head, something in his chest breaking just a little more. Right now, teasing was the last thing he needed or wanted. If Sheppard wouldn't leave him alone he knew a nice quiet spot he could go. Leaning down he turned off the IV before yanking it from his arm, watching as a small drop of blood appeared in its place.

Sheppard grabbed his arm. "Rodney. What do you think you're doing? Look, just, I know I suck at this. But think about this, okay? We need you here. You aren't replaceable. Didn't you hear Zelenka before? You're the best qualified for your job, and not only that, but you can't be replaced on my team. I honestly don't know what else I can say. But I'd rather you stay here where they can keep an eye on you and leave myself than let you go gallivanting again." John rose to his feet and headed for the door. "I thought I had lost you not once, but twice. I nearly killed Beckett when I didn't think he was working fast enough. And I thought my heart was going to stop when you stuck your arm in that chair and followed him. That was one of the worst moments of my life."

Rodney felt his eyes widen, but he didn't say anything. Couldn't. It was as if Sheppard had managed to suck all the words out of the room with that speech. A speech Sheppard never should have had to give. A speech he never deserved to hear.

Watching as Sheppard turned and walked away, Rodney leaned back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. A glimpse at the IV and he knew he'd hear it from Carson, but right now he didn't care.

Curling up as best he could, he groaned and whimpered a little before slumber found him once again.

***

Carson saw John leave, knowing he had probably just had it out with Rodney. Did either of them ever sleep? Although to be fair, he was up because he couldn’t sleep either. He didn’t go back on duty for another few hours, so he figured he would come check on his primary patient and see how he was doing.

Rodney was sleeping, his IV torn out. Did the man live to make his life interesting? He carefully re-inserted it, careful not to jostle too much or wake him up. Sometimes that was easier said than done, but Rodney must still be pretty tired, since all he did was mumble a little.

He really didn’t feel like starting on the backlog of paperwork just yet, so he sat down in the visitor’s chair, thinking he would stay for a few minutes before heading out. His friend’s breathing lulled him, however, and he felt himself start awake at a grunt from the bed. Peeking at his watch, he saw it was 0800. His shift started in another thirty minutes. Just enough time to chat.

“Rodney?”

The man shifted a little, but didn't say a word. The body in front of him was a shade tenser than it had been a few minutes ago.

Carson sighed, then leaned back. "All right." He wasn't sure what question he was answering, or if he was agreeing with something.

The muscles tensed again.

"I know you're angry with me. I'm sorry. I didn't think you would follow me in after Durand. I guess getting you almost killed is becoming a habit."

Rodney sighed. "Not angry," came the muffled response.

"You should be."

"I'm not. I’m tired."

"Why did you follow me? Why didn't you let me go?"

Rodney finally opened an eye, looking at him. He shifted again, turning on to his back, his head angled toward him. "Too valuable a resource."

Carson sighed. "I'm not so sure about that. When it comes down to it, they can get another doctor in here, easy enough. There are dozens in line waiting for the chance. But they can't replace you. If I had gotten you killed, I'm not sure anyone here would ever have forgiven me."

"They would have replaced me in a heartbeat. You should see the line of scientists waiting to take my place—here and on Earth." Rodney sighed. "What is it with you and Sheppard with all of this touchy-feely stuff in the god-awful early hours of the morning?"

"Was that why he was here? He seems to have appointed himself head of the 'Cheer Up the Civilians' committee."

"All I know is that he woke me up with his drooling and snoring and then insisted on talking." McKay shifted on the bed again, trying to get comfortable.

Carson laughed softly. "Aye, he waited until after Elizabeth nearly fired me to have our little chat."

"And?"

"I finally agreed to think about it."

"Ouch," he said, raising an eyebrow. "He made you think? That's harsh."

"I was'na happy with him for making me agree to it. But he wouldn't leave me alone, and it was either that or have a break down."

"Ah."

"Rodney, I...when I was floating, I don't think I would have been able to come back alone. Durand didn't have enough power to force me, and I was losing myself. The only reason I finally did was because I felt you there too, and I knew I couldn't let you die with me."

"And…you're telling me this…why?"

Carson was silent for a long time. "I'm not sure. I wasn't going to. The fact that I was ready to give up and let go isn't exactly the kind of thing I want you to know. Durand kept pushing me to concentrate, but I couldn't really remember much, not until it was no longer my life I was saving, but yours."

"Me and another one of my great plans bites the big one." Rodney rolled his eyes, looking away.

"Great plans?"

Rodney's hand waved absently, the gesture quiet, smaller than usual. "The whole me going in there to make sure you didn't get pulled into whatever it was he was doing."

"If you hadn't, I would have been lost. I was already slipping away. Durand held it back for a little while, but just before you arrived, I was...drifting away. I was so tired... It would have been so easy to let go."

"And the only think I could do was curl up in a ball. Very heroic. I can't even get out of my own way."

"You were fighting. I could hear you. You kept saying you had to get me and get out. You gave me your energy, which was what finally gave me enough of a boost to remember who I was, what I had to do." He sighed, looking away.

"At least something worked, even though I have no memory of that happening. Guess we shouldn't look a gift horse and all that whatnot..."

"Didn't you wonder why you've been so tired? You bloody well gave everything you had to me. Honestly though, I think we would have been a lot better off if you had saved your energy for yourself. At least you save lives by giving them new technology, new ways to fight. I just manage to kill off entire populations." Carson rose, not looking at Rodney. "I need to get to work. My shift is getting ready to start."

"Carson," Rodney said, calling after him, sitting up with a groan, his body tilting to the side.

He turned around, moving back to keep Rodney from toppling out of bed. "Don't overdo it. Your body still needs rest. I'll have Anne check in on you later, and if you're up to it, I'll discharge you tonight. At this point, all you need is rest, and you can probably get that better in your own quarters."

"That would be nice," Rodney admitted, grabbing Carson's arm before he stepped away. "Don't think you're the only one with ghosts to fend off."

Carson tried to pull away, a bit surprised at how strong the grip was. "I know, and I'm sorry. I did'na mean to tell you... I really need to go."

"No. Wait a minute. I don't have the energy to chase you."

Carson stilled, although he was ready to run should it become necessary. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I know you've been through a lot, and you don't need my worries dragging you down. You have enough on your plate, you need to focus on getting better."

"And I'll get better." He offered a weak smile, releasing his grip and letting Carson step back. "Look, I know you find yourself thinking about Michael and his merry band of Wraith and the Hoffans and others, but think of it this way. If it wasn't because of our failures…my failures to find other solutions, to get us some other kind of protection…you would never have been in that situation in the first place. Just keep that in mind."

Carson couldn't help but flinch as his mistakes were cataloged. He knew McKay didn't mean it that way, but it still hurt. "I... Rodney...you've saved me more than once. Saved all of us. And what do I do? I go out and murder the people you just went to all that trouble over. And if that wasn't bad enough, I have to go and create a damn virus that almost gets our own people killed." He was backing away, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I need... I have to go." And he fled.

***

Rodney was bored. After sleeping for most of the past few days, his body had finally decided it was time to be awake. Without a laptop—they'd hidden the one he'd managed to wheedle out of Radek the last time—he found himself with way too much time on his hands.

Which, of course, led to thinking…which, in his case was generally a bad thing when there wasn't a problem or a crisis involved.

Anne had popped her head in a few times, mostly to make sure he was still breathing and to bring him some food, but hadn't been very conversational. He meant to ask what the fading bruises were from on her neck, but she'd been skittish.

Maybe Carson would come back and release him. At least in his quarters he' be able to stare at different walls.

Several hours later Carson appeared at the foot of his bed—the damn man was too quiet for his own good—looking down at the paperwork in his hands. "All right, I think it's about time we let you out of here. I'm going to release you, but I have some conditions."

Rodney raised an eyebrow, but tried to hold back his exasperation. "Conditions?"

"Aye, I want you to make an appointment with Doctor Heightmeyer. You've been through a lot in the last week, so humor me. Also," he took a small bottle out of his pocket, "these are a mild relaxant—Anne told me she gave you a few once already. They are on an as-needed basis; take two if you have any nightmares, or find yourself starting to panic. I don't want you taking more than four in any twenty-four-hour period, though, so on the off chance you find yourself wanting to, come see me and I'll re-evaluate the dosage."

Rodney took the bottle from Carson's hands, shaking it slightly. More drugs. Fun. "Anything else?

"Of course. You're on light duty for the next three days—that means I had better not hear about you staying in the labs until all hours of the night. After that, come back for a follow-up and if everything checks out, I'll clear you for full, active duty. You'll probably find that you still tire easily for a bit, so I'd suggest getting out and moving as much as you feel able to. Walking and movement will help build your stamina back up."

"I'm actually allowed to go back to work?"

"Let me stress again—light duty. That means no more than a few hours in the labs at a shot. Nothing strenuous, no working twelve-hours at a time hunched over a screen."

"Fine. I'm not ten you know. I do understand the English language."

Carson shot him an amused look. "Aye, and how many times have I released you from the infirmary on light duty, only to discover you went straight to work, not stopping until you passed out and had to be hauled back here?"

"There were extenuating circumstances…"

"Right, such as scientists working unsupervised for a few days. Just try not to throw yourself into relapse on purpose. If I didn't know how much you hated it here, I'd think you were looking for reasons to come visit me. Why do you think I waited until the end of the day to release you this time?"

"It's not like I know anything that's going on in my own department," he grumbled. "No one will give me a laptop."

"Then catching up will give you something productive to do without over-taxing you, won't it?"

"Sure." He rolled his eyes, glancing at the bottle in his hands. "Anything else?"

"Not unless you have any questions. Do you want help getting back to your quarters, or think you can manage on your own? Anne will bring your uniform by as soon as we're done."

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Carson hesitated for a moment. "I'll be getting done with my shift in another half-hour, and I haven't had supper yet. If you feel up to it, and want the company, I can bring something to your room, or meet you in the mess hall."

Rodney glanced up, looking him over for a moment before replying. "I’m not in the mood for a whole spectacle in the mess."

"I could stop and get something to bring. If you were interested."

Rodney shrugged. "If you want. I wouldn't want to put you out."

Carson offered a shy smile. "Not at all. I'd like the company too. Other than too much caffeine and/or chocolate, any preferences?"

"No. Nothing. Not really all that hungry. Besides, you know what I like and what I'll actually eat better than me usually."

"Some of that is the sleep talking. And we've been giving you nutrients through the IV, but once you get some solid food in you, you'll probably feel more hungry." Carson offered a grin. "Is there anything you won't eat? You're the only person I know who actually likes MREs."

"Well, you know me and citrus…"

"I promise, there will be no citrus involved. I'll even stay away from drinking lemonade myself."

"Good to know." He glanced back down at his hands, not really sure what else to say. It wasn't as if they left the last conversation on a high note. He glanced up sheepishly. "Anything else?"

Carson shook his head. "I have some paperwork I need to finish up before I leave. Anne should be right along with your clothes, and then I'll see you in a bit." He smiled, and turned to head back in the direction of his office.

"Thanks," he finally said, just before Carson was out of earshot.

Carson half-turned to look back. He didn't say anything, but smiled again before disappearing around a corner.

Sighing, Rodney leaned back on the bed waiting for Anne and his uniform to appear. At least there was light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

***

Carson knew he had been a coward. He had started out wanting to try to make Rodney understand how needed he was, but had let his own problems get the better of him. He had pulled it together, and was determined that he would do whatever was necessary to make sure his friend understood how valuable he was, not just for his brain, but for himself.

Going through the mess, he quickly picked out things he knew Rodney would like, and that had some nutritional value—the man could be a garbage disposal when he wasn’t paying attention. They had a few cups of the blue Jell-O he knew Rodney was particularly fond of, so he snagged the last ones to bring along as well. Passing up the coffee—he had to draw the line somewhere, and feeding a caffeine addiction wasn’t on the agenda—he got a thermos of hot herbal tea, no lemon, and one of cold water.

Arriving at Rodney’s door, he stood awkwardly for a moment trying to figure out how to knock with both hands busy keeping the tray balanced. He finally settled on kicking it a few times.

It took a few minutes before the door opened, Rodney rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Uh…sorry," he said, gesturing toward the rumpled bed. "I was…ah…sleeping, I guess."

Carson shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Aye, you'll be doing a lot of that over the next few days. I can leave this here if you want, and we can do this another night."

"No, it's okay," he replied, still obviously a little bleary-eyed, but waving him in. "Not like I'm doing anything productive."

"I promise I won't keep you up too long. If you start to feel tired again, let me know and I'll leave." He walked over and set the tray down on the desk, careful not to get it too close to the laptop.

"You'll probably know when I fall asleep in my plate," Rodney commented, dropping down on the end of the bed, watching as Carson puttered around. "This is ridiculous. I can't even carry on a normal conversation."

"It will get better, I promise. That's why I suggested getting up and moving around as much as you can. You'll build your stamina back up pretty quickly that way." He handed a plate over with a grin. "Just try not to drown in the mashed potatoes. I'm not sure how I would explain that to my staff."

"The gravy up my nose would be hard to explain I imagine," he said with a half smile, poking at the food with his fork.

"Aye, and the temptation to stick imitation carrots in your ears to complete the picture might just be too much to resist."

Rodney shot him a surprised and perturbed glance before looking back down toward his plate.

"Like you haven't contemplated vegetablizing anyone before. Don't deny it."

"Actually, that's one urge I've never had. Sorry," he shrugged, pushing around the potatoes on his plate, watching and the gravy filled up the valleys and began to blend in.

"Rodney, stop playing with your food and at least try to eat something."

"Is it my fault that nothing looks appetizing?"

Carson sighed. "How about the Jell-O? I've never seen you pass up Jell-O, even when you couldn't hold anything solid down."

He deposited the plate on the end of the desk and shook his head. "For some reason the jiggling is just making me nauseous." He glanced at Carson before looking away, his gaze settling on a section of stained glass in the far window.

Carson just looked at him for a moment. Then he set his own plate aside. "Rodney, I consider you a friend, one of my closest actually. I'd like to think you consider me the same way. If there's something wrong, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

"What?" Rodney turned back to Carson, his forehead scrunching up. "Why? Do you think something's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you've made several comments out of character, you have no appetite, and I've never seen you this subdued, even in the infirmary with the life-threatening injury of the week."

"Oh." He paused again, his gaze at least staying on the doctor this time. "It's nothing…just been thinking a bit."

"So talk to me. Sometimes it helps to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

Rodney huffed and shook his head. "Like I said, it's nothing. It'll pass."

"Will it? For a man this smart, you seem to be remarkably stupid sometimes." Carson just shook his head. "It's not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't be so—not yourself. Usually you head back to the labs as soon as I release you, even if you can barely stand or see straight. I have to fight you to get you to follow basic recovery protocols, and yet this time, you're just doing what you're told. It might make my job easier as your doctor, but as your friend, it has me worried."

Rodney scowled. "What is this? You yell at me when I don't follow your instructions and you yell at me when I do? Talk about mixed signals. Like I said: I'm fine. I just need to think some things through. Can you just leave it at that?"

"I'm not yelling at you. I'm worried about you, there's a difference. I can respect that you want some time to think, especially after everything that's happened, but given what you said to Colonel Sheppard, I wanted to make sure you weren't convincing yourself you weren't necessary or wanted. I fought to save both you and Durand, but if it had come down to a choice, I would have saved you over him."

Rodney's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he rose unsteadily to his feet, moving toward the other side of the room. "Carson," he said, his voice harder than it had been. "I trust you and I am…glad to be back. Can't you just leave it alone?"

Carson closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather his thoughts. "Aye, I probably could. I could leave now, and we could both go on our merry way. But then I would have been a pretty bad friend, if I didn't make an effort to get to the bottom of why you're retreating from us. If you really want me to leave, if you don't want me here, just say so, and I'll go." He could feel himself tense up.

It was a few moments before Rodney finally replied, his expression sliding from anger and frustration into something softer, regretful even. "Right now, it might be better if you did." He wouldn't meet his gaze.

"'Might be better' isn't the same as 'please leave'. I don't want to leave you here like this Rodney, even if it might be better. I miss the egotistical physicist terrorizing my nurses and the science staff, and never failing to make me smile, even when he is being a daft bugger. Most of Atlantis misses that person. You have no idea how many people we had to ban from the infirmary while you were sick. No idea how many showed up begging for news, for ways they could help. Radek and I had to lock the labs when we were working to prevent the other scientists from trying to help and getting in the way."

Rodney closed his eyes and turned away, the slump of his shoulders even more pronounced. "I know you mean well," he began, the words quiet and slow in coming. He turned back, his gaze intense. "But I need to get my head around a few things and this," he said his hand waving between them, "is just making it more difficult for both of us. I…" he broke off, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "I need some time. Is that so much to ask?"

Carson sighed, allowing his emotions to show for only a moment before he shoved them back behind his professional mask. "I'll leave the tray here in case you get hungry later. Try to eat at least a little bit of something, since without the IV you'll need the sugar. You know where to find me if you need anything else." He gathered up his own tray and headed for the door.

A quiet "thank you" followed him out the door.

Carson paused outside as the door closed behind him, letting himself slump against the wall for a second before moving on. This wasn't his specialty. He healed bodies, not minds, and he really had no idea if leaving would do more harm than good. He only hoped Rodney would find his own way back, and that the other man knew that when he was ready to talk, Carson was there. Now, all he could do was wait and watch.

***

It was strange, odd even, for Rodney to have nothing to do. But, for once in his life, he didn't mind it. He'd slept until his body had had enough and then he'd taken to wandering through Atlantis, grabbing food when his body demanded it, but otherwise meandering through the corridors, finding familiarity in places he had no memory of.

It was disconcerting.

Carson had meant well last night, but it had been too much, too soon. It had been bad enough the past several days trying to sort through his jumbled mind as he tried to put the pieces back together, tried to figure out what was his and what wasn't. Sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

He'd found himself down near the East Pier several times, standing awkwardly outside the secondary chair room, his fingertips just brushing the surface of the wall adjacent to the door. He had so many questions. But he always dragged himself away, letting his feet take him to other places, along other deserted and dimly-lit hallways. He paused outside several other rooms, their doors open wide, allowing him to see the damage, the wreckage.

But even when he finally pulled himself back to civilization, things looked different, wrong in a way that he couldn't understand.

When the sheer volume of people overwhelmed him—their carefully phrased and couched comments, well-wishes, and understanding smiles—he ducked onto a balcony, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air, letting it calm him, ground him.

He wasn't sure how long he was standing there when the door slid open behind him. He didn't turn, wouldn't turn, hoping whoever had joined him would leave. When the doors slid shut once again, he relaxed when nothing was said, assuming they'd left him alone.

The quiet voice several he heard several minutes later made him jump.

"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was questioning.

He turned, eyes wide, hand pressed to his chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he asked, already knowing that the question had come out a lot weaker than he wanted or expected.

John just raised an eyebrow and moved next to him, staring out over the railing at the ocean. "How are you feeling?"

Rodney turned back to the water, his gaze focused on some of the swells in the distance. "Fine. Why should I not be?"

"You tell me. You've been cleared for light duty, but you haven't been back to the labs. Supposedly the day after tomorrow you'll be cleared for full duty, which means we go back on the mission rotation. I saw Carson leave your room last night looking like a kicked puppy." John shrugged but didn't look over. "So, how are you feeling?"

Rodney glanced over at the other man briefing before turning back to the water. He shrugged. "Fine. Tired. Little restless. I thought the science staff could do with a break."

"This coming from the man who used to swear they would blow the city up if he turned his back on them for five minutes."

"I did check on things," he said sharply. "I know how to do my job."

"I didn't say you didn't. Just the opposite actually. Last time I saw Radek he was begging me to find you and make you come back so he didn't have to deal with all the idiots any more. I didn't think his hair could stand up that straight."

"He's doing fine," Rodney said. "If I saw a problem I would have stepped in."

"I didn't say there was a problem. Radek just hates doing administrative work and being in charge of the department. I think he gets far more enjoyment out of heckling you."

Rodney huffed. "Don't they all." He let the silence grow between them for a moment before speaking again. "So, did Carson or Radek sic you on me? And I'm fine by the way."

John leaned slightly against the railing so he could look out and see Rodney at the same time. "Actually no, neither of them said anything, other than Radek's complaining. I'm here because I've been trailing you all over the city today looking lost, and I'm concerned. You're a member of my team, and I want to know what's going on."

"You were following me?" He turned, his eyes wide, shock on his face. "Don't you trust me? The last time I checked I was allowed to walk around. I didn't think I needed an escort. And don't you have something better to do than trail after me?"

Sheppard looked out at the ocean again, avoiding Rodney's stare. " I nearly lost both you and Beckett to that damn chair, after almost losing you to Durand. I have Lorne trailing Carson since he's more or less staying put, with orders to radio me if he so much as starts walking in the direction of the East Pier. If you had tried to go in, I would have said something, but you seemed to need to time to think. I was just there to make sure you didn't do anything stupid while you did it." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, softly. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. It’s supposed to be my job to protect you."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted since you obviously don't trust me out of your sight or flattered that you want to make sure I don't break anything else—or myself. I’m leaning toward the first one though."

"I trust you, Rodney, with my life. It's Durand I don't trust. I don't know how he got control of you, and all I have to go on that he's really gone is Carson's word, and we've all seen how stable he's been lately. If that damn Ancient tries to get possession of you again, I want to be there to try and stop him."

"Well, Durand's not here," he said pointing to his head. "It's just me in here and that's plenty."

"Good to hear. So want to explain why you've been wandering around unexplored sections of the city like you knew where the hell you were going? He might not be in there anymore, but you obviously have something of him left, otherwise I don't think you'd be doing that. And that's what I'm afraid of, that Durand left some command or something behind so that as soon as I turn my back he can take you. I will not allow that to happen."

Rodney looked at Sheppard for a moment before turning away. "You want to know what he left? Images. Impressions. I know this city better than I ever have…" He paused before turning back to John, his expression and his tone hardening. "I don't know where he ends and I begin. Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to see a memory of something, somewhere I've been and not know if it's mine or his? I need to sort through it, to make everything mine." He paused, dropping his eyes. "I just need time."

Sheppard was silent for a long moment. "I do understand that, believe it or not. I'm just not sure you understand why people keep asking you if you're okay. I don't think you really understand how valued you are here. But while I won't back off on tailing you, just in case, I won't talk to you unless you either ask or start to do something stupid, if that's the way you want it."

Rodney scowled. "I am an adult, you know. I don't need a babysitter."

"Don't think of me as a babysitter. Think of me as your own personal bodyguard. All the cool kids have one."

"And I was never a 'cool' kid, so you can go about whatever else you actually do during the day."

Sheppard snorted. "I hate to break it to you, but you're probably the coolest kid here. You get to figure out what makes the neat toys work. People hover on your every word. You are, without a doubt, the cool kid."

"And this coming from the twelve-year-old," Rodney said, shaking his head and moving toward the door leading back into the city.

The Colonel easily fell into step beside him. "Hey, twelve-year-olds are usually pretty hip to who the cool people are. They flock to them naturally." He flashed Rodney a grin.

"That wasn't an invitation to follow me."

He shrugged. "I told you, I don't trust the Ancient. If it had been up to me, we would have found a solution that got rid of him permanently." His face hardened. "If he attempts to try and take you again, he's going to find it a bit more difficult this time."

Rodney stopped in the middle of the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you actually think that's going to happen, that I'd let that happen again? Is that what this is all about?"

"Not intentionally, no. But you didn't ask for it the first time, and when you managed to come up for a minute, he pushed you right back down again." John's hands whitened around the gun he was gripping. "I thought we had already lost you, that he had just eradicated you. We got lucky this time. What if he decides he wants your body, wants the physical link to this world again, and tries to take it by force, erase your personality? It might be a long shot, but I can't rule it out."

"God, you are paranoid," he said, shaking his head and heading off down the hallway, his pace faster than before.

Sheppard easily kept up, staying by his side. "Probably. But I've already lost too many friends to situations I could have prevented if I had just been a bit more vigilant. I won't lose another. Not this time."

"And this time, it's not needed or welcome," he said, stopping again. "What will it take to get rid of you?"

"I don't think you can. Right now, you are my biggest concern, so unless we have another foothold situation, everything else can wait. Besides, this will give you someone to snark at." The Colonel put on his 'convince the natives we're friendly' smile.

Rodney sighed, not sure whether to sigh or yell. He didn't have the energy to do either and he hated having John babysitting him. If he was going to fall apart or have the anxiety attack he knew was in his future, he didn't want an audience. "You know this defeats the whole 'I need to work this out myself' thing."

"Look, I wish I could let this go. I know you want to be alone, and if I wasn't so sure—" He looked directly at Rodney for the first time, allowing him to catch a brief glimpse of his fear before hiding it again behind the laid-back mask. "We nearly lost you. Can you blame me for being paranoid?"

"You can start by trusting me not to do anything stupid," he blustered, uncomfortable with what he saw, but refusing in his own stubborn way to let it change his mind. He never needed…wanted…this kind of…attention before.

Sheppard continued to look at him for a long time, before he visibly forced himself to relax the grip on his P-90. "All right. But here, at least compromise with me and keep this on, just in case." He handed over a radio. "You aren't wearing one, and when I tried to call you this morning, I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn't reach you or find you."

He looked at the device in John's hand, hesitating to take it from him. "I have one of those already and it still defeats the purpose—"

"You aren't wearing it though, and that defeats the purpose. Look, set it to channel four. No one uses it, and I'll stay off it unless it's an emergency." John ran a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to back off here, but I can't just let you walk away. I won't bother you, but at least give me this."

Rodney glanced from the radio to Sheppard and back again, weighing his options. It was a leash of sorts, but it might give him the space he needed. He nodded slowing, grabbing it from the other man. "Fine. I'll wear it if it'll stop you from following me."

John relaxed a bit. "Thank you." He reached out, putting one hand on Rodney's arm for a moment before stepping back again. "Call me if you need anything." Then he turned, heading down the hallway towards the control room.

Shaking his head, Rodney pocketed the radio without turning it on, heading in the opposite direction down the corridor. He'd turn it on later. He didn't exactly lie to John. He would wear it. Just not right this minute.

***

His shift was over, but Carson found he wasn’t really tired. He had finally caught up on all his sleep, and the infirmary didn’t really have any major cases at the moment. He had been working on paperwork for most of the day, which wasn’t very strenuous.

He tried going back to his room, but when he caught himself pacing restlessly, he decided to go for a walk. Maybe that would help get rid of some of the excess energy. He needed to get out more anyway.

He found himself wandering, not really sure of his destination. It wasn’t until he was looking at the second command chair that he realized where he was. Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked in, looking around. The last few times he had been here, he hadn’t really been in a position to just look.

Other than a few lights on the console proving the room was getting power, it was dark. He was careful not to touch anything, but finally realized what he was looking for—the signal Durand had promised. Intellectually he knew it hadn’t really been long enough, but he needed to check.

Not yet ready to head back, he slid along the wall, sitting across from the chair, and just let himself drift for a moment. It was surprisingly relaxing here. Peaceful and quiet.

The sound of someone clearing their throat to get his attention made him jump.

"What's up, Doc?"

"Dear lord! Are you trying to kill me? Try to make some noise next time."

"Why?" Major Lorne asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So I'll know you're there before you scare me out of my wits." Carson relaxed back against the wall, his heart still thudding in his chest. "What are you doing down here anyway?"

Lorne shrugged. "Keeping an eye on things."

Carson felt his eyebrows go up. "And isn't that a singularly uninformative answer. You've been spending too much time with Colonel Sheppard."

"Well, he does have a lot of advice on how to keep things running smoothly. Seems to be working so far." He pushed off from the door and wandered toward Carson. "What brings you down this way?"

Carson huffed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, taking up the position he had been in before the Major had arrived. "I needed to get out and work off some excess energy, and found myself here. Surprisingly, I find it almost soothing down here. A chance to clear my head."

"There are plenty of other places on Atlantis. Why here?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I wasn't coming here specifically when I set out. I could make a few guesses, but what difference does it make?" He opened one eye and watched the Major. "I could ask the same of you. Why are you patrolling down here? We never did before."

"What is it with you and McKay?" Lorne asked shaking his head, the words said more to himself than to Carson. "Would you excuse me a minute, Doc?" he asked, moving back toward the door to the hallway.

Carson opened both his eyes at that, and opened his mouth to respond when the Major left again. "What in the world...?" He shook his head. Maybe Lorne was coming down with something. He made a mental note to refer him for a complete physical.

The Major ducked back in a minute later, his muscles tense, his expression hard. "Think you're up for a walk?"

Carson was on his feet immediately, dread starting to pool in his stomach. "What's wrong?"

Lorne didn't answer, instead he gestured for Carson to precede him out of the door. "You feeling okay?"

"Aye, I'm fine. Major Lorne, what's happened?"

"Nothing's happened," he said as they walked down the hallway toward the nearest transporter. "Sheppard's a little…worried is all."

Carson stopped dead. "Excuse me? Major Lorne, where are we going and why?"

"Colonel Sheppard wanted you back in the main section of the city."

"And how would he know I'm not there already? And why does he care?" Carson narrowed his eyes. "Last I checked I'm still senior staff and can go any where I bloody well please. Now is there, or is there not, an emergency?"

Lorne sighed. "Look. All I know is what he told me and right now he wants you back in the city. If you want, you can take it up with him directly once we get there, but until then, I have my orders."

Carson closed his eyes and fought to keep his anger under control. He knew the Major was only following orders. "Fine then. Why don't we go have a chat with the Colonel?" He stalked towards the transporter.

Lorne kept up with him, stepping into the small closet-like device and selecting their destination from the map at the back. As soon as they stepped out, Lorne's radio beeped. "Excuse me, Doctor," he said, answering the call, his expression growing more worried as the seconds progressed.

Carson watched him, his anger swinging to worry once more. Some days he was convinced this entire city was trying to give him an ulcer. "What now?"

He held up a finger. "Yes, sir. I'll ask him." Lorne turned back to Carson. "When did you see Doctor McKay last?"

Carson felt all the blood drain out of his face. "Not since last night when he asked me to leave. I didn't see him all day today; and he isn't scheduled for a follow-up until tomorrow. Why?"

"One second, Doc," Lorne said instead, clicking his radio back on. "Not since last night. How long has it been since you talked to him, sir?" Lorne waited for the reply. "It's not that long, Colonel. Only a few hours…Yes, I know it's strange…No, I don't think so. But wouldn't this be easier to do in person? We're almost there…Yes…We'll be there in five. Lorne out."

He turned back to Beckett, gesturing him down the hall. "The Colonel's in his office."

Carson had been watching him, gathering from the one-sided conversation that no one had seen Rodney in several hours. But no one was bleeding or having convulsions—that they knew of. A small knot of the fear uncurled. Rodney had said he wanted time alone, so the fact that he was off somewhere alone wasn't, in and of itself, cause for concern. Yet. "That man is worse than a bloody wife, always wanting to know where everyone is. Come on, let's go let him yell at me for a bit."

"Actually, sir, he's not looking to yell at you too much."

"That's because I have'na started yelling at him yet."

Lorne cringed a little. "You may want to hold off on that for a bit."

Carson looked at the man from the corner of his eye. "Aye, he's tense. But if I don't give him a reason to yell at me for a bit, he'll just yell at Rodney when we find him, and quite frankly I think I'm in better shape to take it right now."

Lorne didn't reply, instead he silently shook his head and led him to the small office Sheppard had and rarely used. Sheppard, though, didn't even give them time to walk in the door before he started.

"What the hell is it with you and McKay and that stupid room?"

Carson didn't say anything at first, walking in and making himself comfortable in one of the chairs. He absently noted that it was so unused, it still squeaked slightly as he sat. "Nice to see you too, Colonel. Want to tell me why you have poor Major Lorne tailing me all over the city?"

"A precaution that seems to have had some merit," he growled, shoving his chair back as he rose to his feet.

"Precaution? I took a walk, and was sitting on the floor enjoying some quiet when I was ordered to return to this part of the city. Last I checked, I'm not only a civilian, but part of the senior staff. Unless we're under attack, you can't order me to do anything." He sat back, knowing his reasonable tone would probably irritate the man to no end.

"And I thought I distinctly told you to stay the hell away from that room!"

"Did you now? And why did you think I would obey? Are you feeling okay, son? Should I bring you down to the infirmary for a quick physical?"

Sheppard shot him an intense look, edged with anger and something else that looked at first glance to be worry mixed with fear and exasperation. "What is it with you stubborn civilians? I'm just trying to do my job and protect you—even if it is from yourself. Why do you insist on being difficult?"

Carson relented, taking pity on the man. "Colonel, I promise, I wasn't out to make your life difficult. After my shift I found myself with some excess energy and decided to take a walk. I hadn't planned on going there, it just sort of happened. I keep finding myself drawn there, although you don't have to worry, I won't be attempting to sit in the chair again until I'm pretty sure it's safe."

Some of the anger drained from Sheppard, but Carson could see it just under the surface. "But what is it about that area, that room?"

He looked away, a bit uncomfortable now. "I can't speak for Rodney, but for me it's—peaceful. Durand showed me how to connect to the city, like you do on a regular basis I believe, but he anchored me, didn't let me get lost. I guess I decided at some point that if I only tried it there, I wouldn't be in any danger."

"And see, that's what has me worried. We can't afford to lose you. What if he does something, pulls you in like he did before and there's no one there? No, Beckett, I can't allow that. As it is, that room and its systems are staying there under protest. Just one more thing and I might have to override Elizabeth's decision."

Carson's head snapped up. "Colonel, there's nothing malicious about it. It's not like someone or something is forcing me down there. I just find myself wanting to be there. He didn't pull me into anything before, I did that myself, and Durand was just as upset about me doing it as you were."

"But something is drawing both you and McKay down there and I don't like it."

"We both still have a lot of questions, Rodney more than me I'd imagine. I want to know that Durand is okay, that I didn't banish him to some sort of living hell. I get the feeling Rodney remembers more than he's letting on, so he has to try and come to grips with that." Carson rose now, pacing again, his nervous energy back. "I don't like that he's doing this alone any more than you do, but we have to respect his wishes."

"And if he does something stupid?" Sheppard sighed. "I asked Lorne to follow you today, just to keep an eye on things. I ended up trailing McKay all around Atlantis like he was some damn tour guide."

"I hope it won't come to that, but at the end of the day, Rodney has to make his own decisions, and we just have to trust him. I'm not sure what else we can do, except make sure he knows that when he's ready, we're here for him." Carson turned, a bit of his own desperation showing. "Colonel, I can't promise I won't go back down there. Please don't force me to go against your orders. I might be a civilian, but I don't want to be your enemy."

"I know that, trust me, but if there's something I can do to make sure he doesn't get hurt or do something he shouldn't, I have to act. If it means sealing off that room, I'll do it. I'm trying very hard to be patient and understanding, but your two seem to know all the right moves to drive me insane."

Carson felt a little thread of dread make its way down his spine, causing him to shiver slightly. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to not lose control. "You can'na do that. Please, just...just give us more time. Rodney will come around. I'm scheduled to see him tomorrow for a final check-up before he's cleared for duty. I'll talk to him again then."

"If he shows up."

Carson unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself. "He will. I'm sure he's fine. He has his radio, right? Even if he isn't responding to calls, if there was a problem, he would let us know."

"He promised me he'd wear it," Sheppard said, suddenly weary.

"He might have just forgotten. He has a lot on his mind. He has it, so trust him to call you if there was a problem."

"You haven't seen him today, Carson, haven't watched him. If you were in my position you'd be worried. Hell, you'd probably drag him into the infirmary. I only let him go off on his own with his sworn promise that he'd keep it on, that he'd answer me if he was paged."

Carson sank back down into the chair. "I know, trust me. I couldn't even get him to eat Jell-O last night, and he's usually bribing my nurses to bring him the stuff before he's been cleared for solid foods. But what can we do? Rodney's determined to do this alone. We can't force him to accept our friendship, John. No matter how much we might want to."

"And what if he decides to do something he normally wouldn't do because he's been influenced by Durand? What then?"

"Durand wouldn't do that. If anything, I think he wants to eventually meet Rodney, but he wouldn't hurt him. Just the opposite. I think he'd try to stop Rodney from doing anything stupid. But that's assuming he has any influence right now, and I really don't think he does."

"Then why do you both have the unexplained urge to go down there? Explain that to me, because so far, I haven't heard any kind of explanation."

"It's....quiet there. I can think, can let go for a minute without having twenty people jumping me demanding to know what's wrong. My room feels too small, too closed in. If I had to guess, I'd say Rodney probably feels the same way." Carson felt the overwhelming urge to be back there, where he could think for a minute without being watched, but stopped himself before he had done more than shift in his seat.

"There's plenty of other places to go that are quiet and secluded." Sheppard's expression hardened. "Try again."

Carson shrank back a little, surprised at the tone. "I...I don't know. I can'na give you an answer you'll accept I don't think. I just know that I like it there, that it's safe." He shifted forward again, sitting on the edge of the seat.

"Safe?" Sheppard shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You know that you're not making this any easier. Actually, you're just proving my point about some kind of unknown influence."

"It is safe! It's...I can't explain it. I just know that unless I do something deliberately, like sit in the chair before I know its okay, nothing will happen there. There is no influence. My staff has checked me over a half-dozen times already, including once today. Don't you think they would have found something if there was anything there?"

"As you continue to remind me, we are in another galaxy. Anything's possible."

"Yes, but that isn't any reason to go getting suspicious when there's nothing wrong. I am perfectly fine, and Rodney will be fine as soon as he works his way through what happened to him."

"So you agree that he's not acting…normally."

"I know he's dealing with a lot. I've never had a case like this before, but I know if it was me, I'd probably be looking for a quiet corner to think things through myself. He's had most of today to make some decisions. Let's see what he comes up with before we start to panic."

"And if he doesn't keep his appointment?"

Carson sighed. "Then we worry and send out a strike team or whatever you call it to find him."

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, his next words quiet. "And if we're too late?"

Carson shut his eyes, willing himself not to go down that path. "We have to trust Rodney not to do anything stupid."

"But for a genius…" John's words trailed off.

"Aye, for a genius Rodney isn't too bright when it comes to realizing how people feel about him. He's closed himself off for so long, that he's only now starting to understand that people care for him. That's something he's been dealing with for months now."

Sheppard looked at Carson, the corner of his mouth twisting up. "What is it about stubborn civilians?"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "I could ask the same think about cheeky military men." He glanced over at Lorne, who had been standing in the corner listening the whole time. "Speaking of which, are you going to call off my guard dog?"

Sheppard shook his head. "I don't think so. Humor me on this, Carson. He won't get in your way, but he will stop you from doing something he thinks is dangerous. I'm not backing off on this one."

Carson tried to look innocent and trustworthy. He couldn't go back down to the East Pier to look for Rodney with Lorne trailing along behind him reporting back to Sheppard. "I'm not a child, Colonel. I promise I won't do anything stupid or dangerous."

"It's non-negotiable. Consider him your best friend until this blows over."

He pointed to his radio, in place on his ear. "But I have my radio, and it is turned on. You can even test it if you want. I'll even agree to check in with you every few hours if it makes you happy. I'm sure Major Lorne has better things to do than trail me around the infirmary."

Sheppard smiled, the gesture not friendly. "Actually, you're his assignment for the near future."

"Colonel, this is silly. I don't need to take up anyone's time. I'm not exciting enough to provide entertainment to your staff, and I don't need someone to watch my every move."

"You're not providing entertainment to anyone," Sheppard said, his voice boding no argument. "Our job is to protect the civilians on Atlantis. Don't push me on this, Beckett."

"Your job is to protect the city. We aren't off-world, and when we are you can assign all the men you want to keep me safe. I'm not complaining then, and will welcome the protection. But this is Atlantis. I don't need protection here."

"Doctor, if you continue in this, I'll have no choice but to make sure that room and maybe the whole East Pier is sealed off. Would you rather I do that?"

Carson shook his head. "Nae, you know that isn't what I want. I just don't like being followed. It makes me nervous, and you don't really want a nervous doctor working on you."

"You'll be fine," Sheppard said, rising to his feet and gesturing to Lorne. "I think the good doctor needs some fresh air." He paused, holding Carson's gaze. "And remember, I can always change my mind about the East Pier."

Carson shuddered a bit, trying to hide it as he rose. "Colonel..."

"No argument. I'm serious. Don't test me on this."

"What about sleep! The man can't tail me all day and night! As a doctor I won't allow that. He needs some time to himself, and I don't exactly keep regular hours."

"Carson," Sheppard said as he stepped around his desk, a hand on the doctor's arm, "Don't worry about the logistics of anything. Just do your job and let us do ours."

"I can't do my job when I'm being watched. I couldn't even allow med students to observe my surgeries, because I couldn't focus with them there."

Sheppard sighed, glancing at Lorne, his voice tight and hard. "Make sure he gets to his quarters. I have some work to do on the East Pier."

"Colonel! No. What do you think you're doing?" Carson grabbed his arm, holding him tight. "I don't have a bedtime, and I'm not letting you go down there without me."

"Beckett, you're not giving me a lot of options right now. I'm asking you to follow one of my orders, something that will not interfere with your job. Instead, you've insisting on doing things your way. As it is, Elizabeth was not particularly pleased with the solution we came up with for Durand. She's not going to argue with me if I want to seal off that entire section for a very long time." Sheppard glared at him. "You have two options: you allow us to do our jobs by keeping an eye on you for the next few days or I seal off that section of the East Pier."

Carson felt torn. He wanted to argue, didn't want anyone following him. But the thought of having the wing sealed caused him almost physical pain. He was sure some of that conflict passed across his face, but he finally choose to give in. He could find a way to ditch Lorne. "Fine. Have it your way. But know that I'm doing this against my better judgment."

"Welcome to my world, Doc. And have a nice night."

He glared at the soldier, suddenly fighting the urge to hit him. Without another word he turned and left, heading back to the infirmary. He was too wound up to sleep now, and he was pretty sure Major Lorne wouldn't allow him to wander again. At least he could try to get through more of that paperwork.

***

After Rodney had left Sheppard standing in the hallway, he hadn't known where to go, what to do. He was still restless, but also exhausted. All the waking he'd done had certainly taken its toll on the reserves of energy he'd had.

He'd grabbed a little dinner and then collapsed into bed, sliding into a restless slumber, waking several times during the night. Once morning dawned, he'd given up pretending and had pulled himself out of bed, showering and getting himself ready for the day.

He ate breakfast in the very quiet and nearly empty mess hall, collecting several PowerBars and a bottle of water that he took with him when he left, his body headed directly for the East Pier and the labs there.

What was it about that specific wing, that area, that drew him? He wasn't sure, but if this was the only way to exorcise the demons—or fragments of memory—so be it.

He wandered for hours, munching on a PowerBar when hunger hit, poking at dead or half-dead consoles, running his fingers over the tops, remembering what they were designed to do, what systems they controlled.

It was so strange to be able to get impressions of devices he'd never seen before and know exactly what they were for and what they did. It shouldn't be like that.

By mid-afternoon he was tired and found himself in Durand's lab, or at least the lab he used when he'd been on Atlantis. Finding a semi-clean spot, he lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the hard surface, his knees pulled up to his chest.

He hated this feeling, hated this warped sense of déjà vu. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back, his mind still sorting through all the memories and images and impressions that were floating aimlessly in his head.

"If I wake up dead tomorrow, I'm coming back to haunt your sorry arse until the end of time." Carson dropped down next to him on the floor.

Rodney started, his entire body shaking in surprise as his head whipped around. He hadn't heard anyone enter, let alone approach him. "What?"

"If you had turned your bloody radio on yesterday, Sheppard wouldn't have felt the need to stick me with a watchdog, whom I had to have a nurse distract so I could slip out of the infirmary. We don't have long before Lorne and Sheppard come to kill me, and possibly you, so let me give you that check-up you missed. I'd like to die knowing you're okay."

"Radio?" Rodney looked at Carson for a minute, trying to make sense of what his friend had told him. It took a minute, but realization finally dawned. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the object in question. "Oh…this."

"Don't turn it on now! It will only let them find us faster." Carson leaned back against the wall. "Ah, Rodney, what are you doing to yourself? I managed to convince the Colonel not to send out search parties last night when he couldn't reach you on the condition that I'd let him know how your check-up went. When you didn't show up, I got worried and knew if I didn't find you first and warn you, he would probably do damage to you for scaring him like this."

"Check-up? What? That's tomorrow."

"That's today, lad."

Rodney felt his eyes widen as he let his head thump back against the wall. "What's going on? Am I losing my mind?"

"No, you're not. You've just been through a lot lately and you're trying to figure it all out. And the Colonel's not helping, I know. But in his defense, he's terrified. When you were sick, there was nothing he could do to help you, he had to rely on others to save you. Now, I think he's over compensating a bit. Bloody bastard thinks setting watchdogs on people is a good way to handle the situation."

"Yeah, he mentioned something about Lorne," Rodney said absently as he fingered the radio in his hand. He'd made a promise to Sheppard and hadn't followed through, even though he'd intended to. That bothered him. "Carson?"

"Aye?"

"I’m not sure I can do this anymore."

Carson looked over at him. "This?"

"This." Rodney waved his free hand, the small gesture encompassing the room and himself. "I feel like I'm losing myself again."

Carson reached over, resting one hand on his arm. "Then let us help you. You don't have to do this, deal with everything, alone. We need you here Rodney, and none of us are going to give up on you. Don't give up on yourself."

"You don't understand. You can't help. He's still in here," he said, gesturing to his head. "His memories, images, impressions. They're all still there. I can't tell what's mine and what's his. I thought the quiet would help me figure it out, sort things, but it's only gotten worse."

Carson's hand tightened on his arm. "He said you remembered more than you were letting on, but I didn't realize it was that much. But that doesn't mean I can't help. I don't know how yet, but Rodney, we got Durand out, separated you. I know we can find a way to get rid of the last lingering remnants, especially if you're helping. We were at a disadvantage without you before."

"I don't think there's anything left to take out, that's the problem. Nothing's fully formed but it's just enough to feel like it's mine. I honestly don't know how much longer I can stand it." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the latest memory, the way the scientists buzzed about the labs working on various projects as he helped them sort through the difficult equations and get the project to work.

"Rodney, let's go back up to the infirmary. Let me run some tests, bring Radek in. Right now, your mind has nothing to do but dwell on the memories. Let's get you busy doing something, using your own brain. Maybe that will help, if only for a little while. As a last resort, I'll brave the bloody chair again and ask Durand directly how to erase the impressions."

"No!" Rodney's eyes widened. "Absolutely not."

Carson sighed. "I said as a last resort. Believe me, until we get some sort of sign that it's safe, I really don't want to sit back down in that thing. But if it's the only way to help you, I will."

"Over my dead body."

Carson's lips twitched up. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Now, will you come back up with me, so we can find an alternative?"

He shook his head. "I don't want an audience. Can't…have one. Please, don't make me."

"We'll use one of the isolation rooms, and I'll keep everyone but essential personnel out. Once I get some tests started, we can go up to your lab. If you lock the door, we can do some research and no one will bother us. Will that work?"

"Nonono. Not isolation room. Just…let me work this out myself." He pulled his legs closer to his chest, his arms wrapped around them.

"Rodney.... Let me help. Please. If you don't want to go to the infirmary, fine, but let me help you."

"I don't think you can."

"Let me try. Don't shut me out before we've even started."

"What's to try? I'm losing my mind. Even though you're the best doctor I've had, it's not something you can put back together."

"You aren't losing your mind. You have the remnants of someone else's memories cluttering up you head. They aren't yours, any more than Durand's personality was yours. And, yes, as a matter of fact, I do believe I can put it back together. Somehow."

Rodney pressed his lips together and shook his head as yet another memory surfaced, the scene playing in his head as if he were there, the overlapping dialogue cluttering his mind.

"That's it. I'm not sitting here watching you slowly go insane. I'm going to the one person I know can help." There was the sound of someone standing, then a garbled meep noise. "M-major Lorne... Fancy meeting you here..."

Rodney just cringed and wished he could disappear into the floor.

"You know the Colonel's not exactly a happy camper," Lorne said, the voice close.

"Yes, I figured. But I needed to get to Rodney. He needs help Major. Where is Sheppard now?"

"He was headed this way. We've been searching for about an hour now. About five minutes after you sent the nurse after me. Thanks, by the way. I have a date for Friday."

There was silence for a moment before Carson spoke again. "Well, glad that worked out for you. Stay with Rodney until Sheppard arrives. I need to go take care of something. And before you ask, it's a medical emergency."

"Doc," Lorne said, his voice protesting even though Rodney heard movement headed away from him.

"I'll be back. Watch Rodney." The footsteps faded away, to be replaced by shuffling for a few minutes, before more footsteps heralded the arrival of someone else. "What the hell is going on here?" Sheppard's voice was tight with anger.

"Sheppard," Rodney managed to whisper, the current lab finally materializing around him as he pulled himself from the latest memory.

"Jesus, Rodney, you look like hell." The Colonel was next to him a moment later, his hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Hey, look at me, I'm here. You're safe."

"Find Carson. Don't know what he's planning."

Sheppard looked around, his body stiffening. His gaze rested on Lorne. "Where the hell did he go? I thought you said they were both here?"

"You had to pass him on the way out," Lorne said, his voice rising a little.

"Damn sneaky doctor. He must have heard me and hid behind something." Sheppard rested his head against the wall for a moment. "Between the two of you, when this is all done, I am taking a long vacation. Lorne! Find him. You don't leave his side until I say so. Bring him back, and after that he's confined to his room, the infirmary, and the mess. I don't care if he's a civilian."

Rodney watched as Lorne left, running out the door. He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing Lorne hadn't turned into someone else entirely—another scientist hurrying to get a special tool he'd…Durand had…needed.

"Rodney." Sheppard grabbed his face, forcing him to look in his eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Memories. Images. Not mine. Things keep changing."

"Whose memories? Durand's? Damn I knew I couldn't trust that Ancient. Rodney, listen to me, we're going to find a way to fix this, just hang on, okay? And why didn't you tell me sooner, before it got this bad?"

"Didn't think it would get like this," he said, trying to hold onto the here and now. It was hard, but Sheppard was helping to keep him grounded. "Thought I could just sort through everything, that the quiet would make it easier to figure out what was what."

"Damn it, Rodney, why wouldn't you trust me to help? Even to sit with you, figure out how to fix this? I refuse to allow another geek on my team, not when I've finally gotten you trained. You are not giving up, do you hear me?"

"Didn't want an audience. Not for this. Hard enough when you or Carson is here." He took a breath when Sheppard was replaced by someone else, another memory, another image.

"Rodney!" John had both hands on his shoulders now, shaking him a little. "Tell me what to do. What can I do to help?"

How could he tell him that it wasn't him, that there was nothing he could do until it passed, until he was able to push past it? Even locked into the image that wasn't his he could still hear, feel, smell. The sheer differences were starting to drive him crazy.

This memory ended as abruptly as it began, leaving him shaking, Sheppard's hands still gripping him tightly. "God," he said, the word more a sob than anything. "I can't—"

"Rodney..." Sheppard actually sounded afraid, his mask gone for the moment. "You have to fight it."

"I feel like I'm losing me. The harder I fight it the stronger it gets. Find Carson. Don't let him do anything."

"I'm not going anywhere. Lorne will find Carson and get his ass back here to fix you."

Rodney snorted, the edges of another memory, another dead Ancient scientist flickering in the corner of his eye. "I don't think this is something he can fix."

"If he doesn't I'll shoot him. It's his job to fix you."

Keeping the specter at bay, Rodney actually looked at Sheppard. "There are some things no one can fix."

"That's a lie and you know it. If it were anyone else but you, you'd be in the labs solving the problem and smirking at everyone because they didn't get it as fast as you did."

Rodney shook his head, feeling the next memory coming. It was worse now. They were coming faster, more frequently, and stronger than before. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from from the man holding onto his arms, trying to push the memory away.

"Rodney! Damn it! Lorne, where the hell are you with Carson?"

Rodney trembled a little as the memory washed over him, watching as another Ancient scientist smiled up at him, his mouth moving, trying to tell him something. It was quick, short, but intense and he found himself trembling even as the damaged lab appeared again, Sheppard still holding onto him, keeping him upright.

His eyes widened as the next one swirled into view, his breath catching in his throat as the memory grabbed him, pulling him away from the present. One word, though, he thought he managed to whisper. "Nydia…"

***

As he hurried down the hall, first dodging Colonel Sheppard, then hurrying his steps when he heard echoes behind him, Carson knew this was a bad idea.

The last time he had sat in the chair, it had nearly killed him. Doing it again, when he had no guarantee of any better success was not only stupid, it was borderline suicidal. Had it been anyone else, he would have been the one smacking them over the head and sending Marines to nail them to the floor.

But it wasn’t someone else, and he didn’t really see that he had much choice. Rodney was losing it, and the visions, or memories, or whatever they were seemed to be coming faster and stronger. He didn’t have time to play with Ancient toys until he found one that worked.

He needed to convince Durand to fix this. To help.

As he skidded into the room, he saw movement coming from behind, and heard Lorne calling his name, ordering him to stop. Before the admittedly faster and stronger man could catch him though, Carson was in the chair and had it activated.

There was pain again, but it wasn’t as bad this time. The darkness wasn’t so all-consuming, didn’t rip away his identity and purpose. He could handle it.

“Durand!” He just hoped he could reach him before Rodney ran out of time.

"Doctor?" The voice was hesitant.

"Durand! I need your help. Rodney is—losing himself. Your memories were left behind when we transferred you here, and now they're taking him over."

"That should not have happened," Durand replied, the tone thoughtful and calm. "I am not missing anything."

"It happened slowly. He seemed fine at first, but it's speeding up. When I left him, he was actually getting sucked in so completely he had almost no awareness of what was going on around him. I don't know how to fix this."

"I had thought…" Durand said, pausing for a moment.

Carson fought back his own impatience and fear, dodging a large bubble of the darkness heading towards him. "If I bring him here, can you help him?"

"No. I am sorry. I had only hoped to leave him a gift of understanding. I see that I have only given pain. Please forgive me," Durand said, sorrow thick in his voice. "Please leave before you are trapped here. It is not safe."

"I can get out when I need to. And I don't blame you, especially since I know it can help if Rodney can get control of it. But help me find a way to tone it down for him. I think the problem is that it's coming too fast. There has to be some way I can slow it down, allow him to access it when he's ready."

"No. There is no way to alter the gift. I….misjudged. He must learn to control it."

"I don't need to alter it, I just need a way to help him assimilate it. He thinks too much, tries to take it all in at once. It's the way his mind works, but this time its working against him." Carson wished he could see Durand, his real face and not what he had looked like as Rodney. "Help me teach him to control it, use it as you intended."

"There is nothing to teach. He either knows or does not. I am sorry."

Carson thought about fighting, but he knew Durand was telling the truth. "Aye, I understand. So how are you? Are you okay here?"

"Fine. But I must insist that you leave. I don't want to accidentally pull you in. You shouldn't be here."

"It's all right. It isn't as bad this time. I even know who you are, who I am. I can leave in a minute, once I'm sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, but it takes energy to talk to you, energy that I need to finish what I started here. I know that sounds…bad, but I'm protecting you, holding the worst back. Please…"

Carson nodded. "I'll leave then. Thank you. At least I know what it is now effecting Rodney. I think I can help him now. Stay safe. And don't forget your promise!"

"I would not. Take care."

"You too." Carson focused on getting out, and was a bit surprised at how fast it happened. He sat up abruptly, closing his eyes as the room continued to spin around him for a moment. He had seen Major Lorne hovering nearby before he shut them, so he turned in what he hoped was that direction. "How long was I in there?"

"Little over an hour," Lorne said, his face dark. "McKay's not doing well."

"Give me your radio, then help me get back to him. I left mine in the infirmary." He opened his eyes, grateful that everything was in place. He felt a bit weak, but otherwise surprisingly fine. Durand must have been shielding him more than he thought.

The Major sighed, but did as Carson asked, handing over the radio first before helping him to his feet, hanging onto his arm, keeping him upright.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Beckett. Where are you?" He ignored the fact that his legs tried to buckle and used the Major for leverage as he started moving.

"Where you left McKay," he growled.

"Good. I'm not far then. Look, the memories were supposed to be a gift of sorts. Durand knew Rodney wanted a better understanding of Ancient tech, and this was his way of trying to help. He didn't realize Rodney would try to access it all at once, which is why he's starting to lose control of it. Try to get him to focus on controlling it, making it start and stop on his command. I'm on my way."

"Beckett, he's not responding to me anymore. Hasn't been." John sounded worried. "What was he thinking?"

"He was trying to help, and use physical stimuli. Give Rodney something to latch on to, to ground himself in this world. If he's that far gone, pain might be the only thing that will work, unfortunately." Carson was half dragging, half being carried by Lorne as he tried to go faster.

"You think I haven't tried that? I don't want to hurt him."

"I know, but we need to get him to rouse enough to be aware of us. Once I get there, I'll send Lorne to the infirmary for a relaxant, if we can bring him back, then slowing his mind down might help him get more control over it."

"We need to have a talk when all this is through about you civilians," Sheppard said, his voice tight.

"Yes, you can kill me later, after I find a way to help Rodney. Right now, focus on him."

"Fine. Sheppard out."

Carson growled. Then he looked over a bit warily at the soldier who was helping him. "Ah, he won't really try to kill me, will he?"

"Maybe not right away, but yeah, I think it's part of his agenda."

"I don't suppose I could keep you as my bodyguard in the event guns come into play?"

Lorne chuckled. "Tough call, Doc. Tough call."

They had arrived back at the lab, and Carson made his way to where Sheppard was hunched over Rodney. He looked back at Lorne. "Major, find Anne in the infirmary. Tell her I need the Carisoprodol. She'll get you what you need." He turned back to Rodney, his attention focused on him now. "Come on, Rodney, I need you to focus on me lad, focus on my voice."

Rodney blinked several times, the hint of a smile touching his mouth. His words were breathy and light. "You came back."

"Aye, I'm here. Rodney, these memories aren't supposed to be controlling you. They're just coming too fast. You need to get control of them instead of fighting them. As soon as Lorne gets back I'm going to give you something to help you relax. Hopefully that will help."

"We shouldn't have argued."

Carson blinked. "Argued? We didn't argue."

"I know it's my fault and I'm sorry."

"Rodney...what are you talking about?"

McKay focused a little more on him, tilting his head. "I'm just glad you're here now and we can sort things out."

Carson looked over at Sheppard. "Um, Colonel, did I miss something? Did you two argue, and now he thinks I'm you? Not to mention, since when does Rodney McKay apologize for anything?"

Sheppard shook his head, his eyes equally wide and uncertain. "He hasn't said anything in nearly a half-hour, kinda had that glazed over look actually."

The hard lump of fear was back in his stomach as he turned back to his friend. "Rodney, lad, why don't you tell me about why we argued. I don't remember now."

McKay looked at him a little closer, eyes narrowing slightly before he shook his head. "No, I don't want you to get mad again. We both know how you get when you're angry."

"I promise, I won't get mad again. I'm worried about you, so I need to know why you think I was angry."

He bristled a little. "Don't you think we've been through it enough already? Why belabor the point. I told them no. My work here and now is more important."

Suddenly several things clicked into place. He had had several long chats with Durand about his wife, and this sounded a bit too familiar. He muttered several curses in Gaelic, knowing neither of the other two would know what he was saying. "Colonel, he's fully slipped into Durand's memories. I think he believes I'm Nydia; they fought about the program, and Durand turned them down. Then the guys in charge killed his wife and forced the treatment on him."

Sheppard's face paled, his hand tightening on Rodney's arm. "They did what? That's…that's…"

"I had a chance to talk a bit with Durand about it. Apparently she was vocally opposed to what they were doing, and didn't want Durand to have any part in it. That's the reason they had to keep treating him, why it didn't work the first time. He refused it, and fought what they were doing until his will was completely submerged. From what Rodney's saying, I'd guess he's slipped back to just before that, when they had made the offer, but before his wife was killed." Carson was quickly evaluating his options. They had to snap Rodney back to this time and place somehow.

"Won't he just work himself out of it like the other times? Won't it be bad just to yank him back?"

Carson ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know! I don't think he's ever slipped this far into the memories. He might snap himself out, and he might not. I have no idea how much of us he's really interacting with, and how much is just remembered conversations."

"You're angry again." The words were quiet. Rodney's eyes thoughtful as his gaze flickered back and forth between Carson and Sheppard.

Carson turned back to him. "No, I'm not angry. I'm just worried about you. Why don't we get you back upstairs to your room? Maybe a good night's sleep will help..."

"You sound angry. I know the tone. And I'm not tired."

"I promise, I'm not angry. And you've been sick, so you need to get your rest."

Rodney's brow furrowed. "Sick? No, I'm fine. Are you sure you're feeling okay? You're not sounding like yourself."

"Aye, I'm sure I don't," Carson muttered under his breath. He decided to try and different tactic. He needed to get Rodney out of this cold, damp lab. "I must admit, I'm feeling a bit tired. Why don't you come with me, help me back up to the main part of the city?"

"The city?" Rodney looked around, his eyes drifting over the lab, confusion on his face. "But…we were on Doranda, weren't we? How'd I get here?"

Carson was starting to feel a bit desperate. And more than a bit creeped out that he was pretending to be someone's long-dead wife. "I...forgot something. We had to come back. Now let's get up and go back towards your—um, our—room. Can you do that for me?"

Rodney reached out and gripped his arm, his fingers digging a little. "What's happening? This isn't right. You were never here, not in this lab." There was a desperation in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"You've been sick, lad, like I told you. I'm very worried about you, so I came down here to find you and bring you back."

Rodney shook his head a little, closing his eyes, his hand tightening on Carson's arm. "You're dead. You can't be here. No matter how much I'd like you to be alive it's just not possible." He took a long shuddering breath.

Damn it! He had hoped the memories would stay far enough back that he could get Rodney back upstairs before he started to snap out of it. "Rodney, look at me. You are Rodney McKay, chief science officer of the Atlantis expedition from Earth. These memories you are having are from a man named Durand, who lived here ten thousand years ago. You have to get control of them, Rodney. Please, concentrate!"

"I remember your body, seeing it so still, so pale," Rodney said, the words barely loud enough for Carson to hear. "They said it was an accident." He looked up, holding Carson's gaze. "That's when I came here to work—for a time." He blinked again, tilting his head. "You know, I never loved anyone as much as he loved her."

Carson stared at him for a moment, catching the change of pronouns. "Rodney? Please tell me you know who I am..."

He nodded slowly, eyes flickering toward Sheppard. "Unfortunately."

"Oh, thank God." Carson sat back slightly, exhausted. "Listen to me, Durand left you the memories as a...gift. He didn't realize they would hit you this hard. I think he wanted to give you a better understanding of Ancient technology and how they thought. You can control it I think, but it's going to take some work. I have Major Lorne bringing down a relaxant. It won't knock you out, just make you less tense. If you aren't fighting it, it might be easier to control it."

Rodney's eyes lost focus and he nodded. "I can see that now." His forehead furrowed a little more. "That last one kind jolted a few things into place, I think." He paused again, a shiver running though his body. "How…long?"

"I left about an hour and a half ago, and you were just slipping into it then. From what Colonel Sheppard told me, you got worse after I left, almost catatonic. I've haven't been here for long, which is when you started snapping out of it."

"Huh." He paused again, glancing toward the Colonel, wincing a little. "Sorry about that whole…" His hand waved absently. "…freak out thing."

Sheppard flashed him a weak grin. “It’s okay. Keeps me on my toes.”

Carson looked closely at Rodney, not liking what he was seeing. “Rodney, you’re exhausted and this lab is cold and damp. I don’t want to risk you catching something. I know you don’t want to go back to the infirmary, but what about your room? At least it’s warm there, and quiet and not so blessed uncomfortable.”

"Warm would be good," he said, his body shivering again as if to emphasize his words.

"Right. Colonel, You help him up. Make sure he doesn't fall. I don't like those shivers, and I don't know how much strength the memories pulled out of him." He pushed himself up, using the side of one of the lab benches as leverage.

Rodney tried to push himself off the floor, John holding tight to his arm, but from the discomfort on his face it was obviously more difficult than he thought it would be. Finally on his feet, he swayed, his face dropping several shades of color.

"It's okay, Rodney, we'll take it slow. Lean on the Colonel. Use him for support. We can stop any time you need to take a break. Just keep telling yourself there is a warm, dry bed waiting for you at the end. John, do you have any PowerBars on you? That will help as well—it's probably been a while since Rodney ate anything."

John wordlessly used his free hand to pull a PowerBar out of his vest and hand it over. Carson ripped the wrapper off, and practically shoved it at Rodney.

"I ate one of these before," he protested, scowling at the bar in his hand.

"Humor me. Eat another one. With everything else, I don't want to have to treat you for hypoglycemia again, too."

"Oh," he said, looking at the bar for another moment before taking a bite, chewing slowly.

Carson was about to ask John to call Lorne and find out where he was, re-route him to Rodney's room, when he remembered he still had the Major's radio. Reaching up, he decided to call Anne. "Anne, this is Carson." He paused, relieved when she responded. "Is Major Lorne still there? Good. Have him head to Rodney's room and meet me there instead. We'll be heading there in a moment. Thanks, luv." He saw that Rodney had eaten half the bar. "Ready?"

Rodney glanced up. "For what?"

"Leaving here. Are you feeling up to the walk now?"

Rodney shrugged, his gaze wandering to where John's hand was gripping his upper arm. "I guess." He paused, his eyes wandering up to Sheppard's face. "When did you get here?"

John's eyes widened a bit. "Um, Rodney, I've been here for a while. Why don't we get you upstairs?" He started pulling Rodney along, keeping a hand on his arm. He shared a quick worried glance with Carson as he moved.

Carson sighed and started following them. He was glad they were moving slow, since he was still feeling a bit weak from the chair. At this pace, though, it wasn’t a problem. He carefully watched Rodney as they made their way towards the transporter. How was he supposed to fix this? And the bigger question: could he fix it in time to save Rodney’s mind as well as his body?

***


	2. Chapter 2

Walking down the hall with Sheppard attached to his right arm, McKay felt a little disconnected. He knew something had happened, something big, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what had gotten his two friends so worked up.

His mind was quieter now than it had been, the memories and images faded into the background.

He glanced down at the PowerBar wrapper in his left hand, vaguely remembering that he'd had something else before as well.

He paused, dragging Sheppard to a stop. "I left my water bottle."

John shot him an odd look. "I'll send someone to look for it later."

"Oh. Okay." He started walking again, his eyes gazing around the corridor. "You know, it looked better with plants."

John stumbled a little at that, but caught himself quickly. "Really? Well, maybe once we have a few more people, and you know, aren't under constant threat of invasion, we can look into that."

Rodney waved his left hand. "It gave it a more…lived in look." He shrugged. "Much better than the ten-thousand-year-old dead plant look."

"Yeah, I can see that. Tell you what, when you're back to full speed, we'll put a mission on the roster to go trade for houseplants."

Rodney shot him a look. "That would be a waste of resources, not to mention time. Maybe Teyla can just ask the Athosians. Or we could just talk to the botanists. They'd probably know of some of the heartier plants."

"Yeah, but what's the fun in that? If I haven't been shot at by natives while obtaining the plants, it just doesn't have the same homey feeling."

Rodney scowled at the Colonel, trying to tug his arm free. "You are insane, you know that?"

John's grip tightened slightly. "Just trying to lighten the mood a bit, Rodney. It's been a long week."

"Joking about being shot by angry natives because you're stealing their plants just to decorate a strange Ancient city is not exactly amusing. And you do realize that I can, one, walk fine on my own. I've been doing it for thirty-seven years now. And secondly, you're cutting off the circulation in my arm. I'm surprised my hand isn't blue."

"Geeze Rodney, lighten up." His hand relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. "And every time I've let you out of my sight or caved to your demands, you disappear for hours only to be found shivering on the floor somewhere. I'm sorry, but this time I'm delivering you to your room, then camping outside to make sure you stay put."

"Carson…" Rodney whined, turning to the doctor on his other side. Thankfully he hadn't latched onto him like a leech.

"Hmmm?" Carson's eyes focused on him. "What's that?"

"Would you call off the pitbull?" he said, gesturing with his left hand to Sheppard. "And what's with you?"

Carson's eyes darted to John's hand then back to Rodney. "What's wrong? He isn't actually hurting you, is he? Give him a break, Rodney. You scared the man half to death."

“Hey!” Sheppard looked back to glare at the doctor who only shrugged.

"I'm losing circulation in my arm."

"Would you prefer he held your hand? Because I have to be honest, I don't think you're getting rid of him, and he already wants to kill me, so I don't think I want to interfere."

“Carson, I’d stop talking now if I were you.” John was growling now.

“See.” Carson shrugged again at Rodney. “As long as no extremities turn blue before we get to your room, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

"I know how to walk on my own and why are we going to my quarters?" he protested, still trying to tug his arm free.

Carson raised an eyebrow. "We're going to your quarters because I didn't think you would agree to the infirmary, which is really where I'd rather have you. You seemed a bit—unenthusiastic about that before. Have you changed your mind?"

"But I'm fine," he said stopping, only to be pulled several steps further down the hallway when Sheppard didn't stop immediately. Throwing the man a hard look, he turned back to Carson. "I feel fine. I actually need to go check in on Zelenka—"

"Rodney, we are going to your quarters, you are parking it there until I say otherwise, and I'm tired of arguing with you about it. You're the one who didn't want to go back to work because you had to work a few things out, well, now we're going to figure this out because I'm not allowing my chief scientist to go wandering alone anymore and slipping into other people's memories to the point where he doesn't know who he is." John yanked him hard enough to almost pull him off his feet, and started stalking down the hall, dragging Rodney behind him.

"What!" Rodney glanced back and forth between the two men, allowing himself to be pulled down the hallway. "You're not kidding are you?"

“Um, Colonel!” Carson called after them from where he had stopped in the hallway, eyes wide.

“I’m tired of this. The two of you have been wandering off getting into trouble for days now. For the foreseeable future, I’m in charge. Carson, get your ass up here.” Sheppard stopped, glaring back at the stationary doctor.

"Sir," Lorne said from his position just outside Rodney's quarters. "Need some help?"

“Lorne. Thank goodness. Beckett is your responsibility. Get him in here and don’t leave his side this time no matter how many pretty nurses he throws your way.” Sheppard turned back, yanking Rodney in the door. The squeak of Carson being similarly manhandled was heard from outside. Sheppard pushed him into the bed, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his 'I'm-not-screwing-around' face on.

"What the hell has come over you? I don't appreciate being treated like a prisoner in my own quarters," Rodney said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, and I don't appreciate being lied to. I trusted you to turn your radio on and you didn't. Then you disappear for almost twenty-four hours, and when I do finally find you, you think you're a damn Ancient and Carson's your dead wife. I'm sorry, but I'm a little tired of this. We're fixing this, if I have to sit on you and Beckett both until we do."

"I forgot! I really meant to," Rodney protested, his eyes wide the blood draining from his face as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the device in question. "I brought it with me when I left my quarters this morning, but then I started walking…" He paused, a sheepish expression on his face. "Things get a bit hazy after a certain point."

Sheppard face softened slightly, but he didn't move. "Look, I understand, things have been a bit crazy. But I don't think I can take having you disappear again. Let's just fix this and move on, instead of dancing around it." He looked up as Lorne dragged a protesting Carson in the door.

“Bloody hell, I can walk on my own! Let go of me!” Carson managed to pull free after they were in the room. He glared at Sheppard. “Is this really necessary?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “I believe we’ve had this conversation already. Your options still stand, and this time, if you ditch my Marine again, I will follow though.”

"You can't keep us locked up," Rodney said, setting his jaw as he rose to his feet, swaying a little and hoping the Colonel hadn't noticed. "I'll take this to Elizabeth. I'm a civilian and don't answer to you."

"I don't want to keep you locked up, Rodney. Actually, I'd like you to get better ASAP, since Zelenka might be good, but he isn't you. You can't even stand up without trouble, why won't you just let us help you?"

"I’m fine. I don't need any help," he protested, his lips thinning. He turned to Beckett. "You talk some sense into him."

Carson sent another glare at both soldiers, then turned back to Rodney. "While I don't agree with his tactics, I do agree with his goal. We don't know what will trigger another of Durand's memories right now, and you don't have any control over the information contained in them. We need to figure out how much he left you and how you can keep it from overwhelming you before I can clear you for duty."

"But I feel fine," he protested.

"Aye, and you felt fine yesterday, but that did'na stop the attack today, did it?" Carson grabbed Rodney's desk chair and sat down heavily. "Look, let's just figure out what Durand gave you. I know it was memories, and I know they were meant to give you better insight into the Ancient technology. Why don't we start there? What have you been seeing?"

Rodney held Carson's gaze for several seconds before sighing. "We're not going to be able to just let this slide by, eh?"

"I'm afraid not. The guard dogs won't let us, even if I was inclined to ignore it, which I'm not."

His gaze slid over to Sheppard and Lorne, standing quietly, but watching both of them intently. Rolling his eyes, McKay dropped onto this bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. "People. Places. Things. It's been pretty random. Like, for instance, I know that there should be a plant just outside the door to Elizabeth's office, and I also know the exact contents of a drawer in one of the labs on the East Pier."

He rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know how this is going to help us any."

"That is pretty random." Carson's gaze went over Rodney's shoulders, his voice thoughtful. "He did'na say exactly what he gave you, but it makes sense that you would have gotten some of his stronger impressions, and that those would be the ones to come to the surface first. My guess is that the actual useful information is buried a bit deeper."

"Useful? You consider any of this useful? Lorne there," he said gesturing to the Major, "turned into some Ancient lab tech at one point."

"No, actually, I said you hadn't gotten to the useful information yet." Carson rolled his eyes.

"What? So this is going to go on indefinitely?"

"Rodney, stop jumping to conclusions. What I said was that Durand gave you a specific set of memories for a reason. The problem is that a few of his personal memories came along with it. And since those are more powerful, they're the ones that have surfaced so far, mostly because we didn't know what was happening. You've been fighting them instead of trying to control them." He gestured to Lorne, who handed over a pill bottle. "This is a muscle relaxant I've used on you before. It won't knock you out, but it will force your muscles to unclench. If you aren't fighting so hard, it might be easier to figure out what the triggers are and how you can use them consciously, instead of being used by them."

Rodney's eyes widened. "I'm relaxed enough, thank you very much. I don't need any of your happy pills."

Carson tossed them over on the bed. "I didn't say to take one now. If you start to feel one of the memories trying to surface, that might make the whole thing a little less traumatic on you. Your natural urge is to fight it, but that might not be the best way to handle it."

"And you'd know this how exactly?" he asked, eyeing Carson. "Or is this just another one of your voodoo spells?"

Carson closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Call it a hunch if you want to. I don't know for sure, but I do know Durand is capable of giving us more information than we realize. He said he couldn't help you, but I think he might have given me a bit of information on how I could help you."

"Wait a minute," Rodney said, bristling. "How and when did he give you more information?"

Carson opened his eyes, a faint blush staining his cheeks. "Ah, that doesn't really matter, does it? The important thing is figuring out how to get these memories under your control."

"It matters." He crossed his arms over his chest. "If you intend for me to take anything you've giving me, you had better start explaining yourself."

Carson looked like he was going to hedge again, but Major Lorne spoke up. "He returned to the chair Doctor McKay, while you were stuck in that memory. I tried to stop him, but he was too far ahead of me, sir."

"Traitor." Carson shot the soldier an annoyed glance.

"See, this makes me less willing to listen," Rodney said, gesturing toward Carson. "How do we know that he's not some weird pod person?"

Carson shook his head. "Look, you were in the middle of Durand's memories, and I didn't have time to start messing around with things that might or might not have helped you. I needed to get answers immediately. For all I knew, you might not have snapped back out of it. It was a minimal risk, and the reward is that I have information we can use to get you back to fully-functioning again."

"Such as?"

"Such as that right now you're only getting the surface memories which wasn't what he intended to give you. Those were accidental, but because they're tainted with emotions, they are far more powerful. If you can get control of the deeper, more useful information, you'll have control of those too."

Rodney looked at Carson, his gaze shifting to Lorne before landing on Sheppard. "And you buy this? I can't believe you'd agree to this."

John was staring hard at the doctor's back. "Actually, no, I didn't. I expressly forbade him from doing it, but he ignored me. Why do you think I have Lorne watching him?"

Carson stiffened but didn’t turn around. Instead he addressed Rodney directly. “Look, I have my own theory about why the memories hit you so hard when you were in the lab, when you hadn’t gotten more than flashes before that. The labs are where Durand’s memories would have been strongest, since it was where he worked when he was here on Atlantis. But here, for instance, in your room, there’s nothing to trigger anything. So as long as we work in places Durand would never have gone, the likelihood of you having another attack that bad is much slimmer.”

Rodney chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, he's been here."

Carson eyed him carefully. "Oh?"

Rodney felt himself blushing. "Yeah, after Nydia…he was lonely. Okay? That's all I'm saying on it. How did I mange to get myself into this mess?"

Carson looked a bit shocked. "Um, right then. Well, as long as you don't start to think I'm that person too...Anyway, if you're getting flashes here, is there anywhere else you might want to try going?"

"No," McKay said, shaking his head, keeping his eyes down. "Not quite the same…intensity. And as for places…it's hard to say. He's been almost everywhere. And I’m really not trying to be difficult."

"I know, Rodney. Let's just stay here then, if it isn't too intense. At least here you know what to be aware of. Actually, we can start there if you want. Can you tell when a memory is trying to surface and try directing it?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. It's strange. At first it felt just like a bad case of déjà vu. I'd be walking down a hallway and I'd see something—an image, a piece of memory—that I knew wasn't mine, but felt like mine. Those were usually just flashes, like the potted plant in the control room."

"That makes sense. You weren't anywhere associated with strong memories, just impressions, surface thoughts."

"I guess. All of the ones at the beginning were like that. Annoying, but nothing I couldn’t handle. But I guess that changed." He turned toward Sheppard. "If I'd known how strong they would get, I wouldn't have asked you to do what you did. Actually," he said cringing a little, "it may have been a good idea for someone to be there with me when things started getting…strange….eh, stranger than they were."

John held his gaze for several moments. "You didn't know it would get that bad. It sounds like you really did just think there were a few remnants to take care of. I don't blame you for it, but I'm also not letting you go anywhere alone until I'm sure this is solved."

"Burned those bridges, did I"?

"Let’s just call it a safety precaution. Believe it or not, I like you, Rodney. Breaking in a new geek would take far too much effort."

McKay scowled at him. "Thanks. You're all heart."

"Any time, McKay. I live to serve."

He held Sheppard's gaze for a long moment before turning back to Carson, clapping his hands together. "So, we all done here?"

A small smile was playing around Carson's lips. "You tell me. I'm willing to leave you to Colonel Sheppard for a bit if you want to try and work this out on your own. He knows where to find me if you start to back-slide at all. We can actually try accessing the information tomorrow if you feel up to it."

Rodney felt his hopeful expression drooping a little. "I figured…we had out little heart-to-heart…Hey, I even apologized. I thought we were done."

Carson stood up and moved to the bed, sitting down next to Rodney. "Look, I know this is hard, lad. Believe me when I say I want this over nearly as much as you do. I just don't want another incident like today, or worse, when you're out in the field somewhere. Work with me, okay?"

"Fine," he finally said, slumping a little on his bed. "But does he have to stay here?"

Carson's laugh was a bit brittle. "Trust me, if I could make him stop, I would. I've pointed out that the military has better things to do than follow civilians around, but if I bring that up again directly, he'll seal the East Pier."

"He'll do what! He can't just close off a section of the city!"

"Aye, that's what I said." Rodney spotted the hardening expression on John's face, and the faintly amused one on Lorne's. "But as you can see, I was'na successful in my arguments."

"I seem to have missed that conversation, eh?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll behave myself, and it won't be an issue."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Leaving the sheep alone tonight, are you?"

"Actually, it's more that I don't think I can ditch him again. He already got a date with one of my nurses out of the first attempt, but I get the feeling making another attempt will only result in a very uncomfortable conversation."

"Doc, I am in the room you know," Lorne said.

Carson didn't even turn around. "I sometimes wonder, Rodney, if all the training they receive might just make them a tad bit too controlling. They really don't give us much bloody choice, do they?"

"Usually, no," Rodney agreed. "They tend to demand unquestioning obedience, have you noticed that? It's almost like they want drones or something backing them up."

“If the two of you are done…” John reached over and hauled Carson to his feet, passing him off to Lorne. “Rodney, get some sleep. We’ll pick this up again tomorrow. Lorne, see that Beckett does the same.”

“Excuse me! I do have things to attend to, Colonel.” Carson was glaring again, trying to shake the other soldier off his arm. “Rodney, he likes you better, make him stop this madness.”

McKay shook his head. "It's bad enough that we're going to have all of Atlantis talking about our overnight guests. I’m not sure anything I do will make it better."

"You're the genius, and you spend more time with the military than I do. Isn't there an off command or something?"

"If there is one, I haven't found it yet, but trust me," Rodney said, raising an eyebrow toward Carson, "I have been looking."

"All right, we'll try this again tomorrow." He managed to yank his arm free for moment, and his face got serious once again. "Rodney, I'll have my radio on all night. If you need me for anything..."

"Maybe to get Sheppard out of quarters…"

"Well, aye, other than that. I'll try working on a military repellant or something in my off hours." He smiled.

"I'm sure I can come up with something," he added. "I do make my own sunscreen. How much harder could that be?"

"Between us, we could make their lives miserable. I wonder why we put up with this sort of treatment."

"Well," Rodney said, his gaze shifting to Sheppard and Lorne, "right now they're not very happy and they've been caressing those guns of theirs for a while."

"Aye, do you suppose we should pretend to give in for now and do as they ask? For safety reasons, of course."

"See, I’m not so sure about that," he said, watching Sheppard's face tighten down even further. "I don't think they'd hurt either of us deliberately. And I know Doctor Weir would…frown upon it, too. So, we might actually have a bit more leeway than we think to…push the envelope, so to speak."

Carson perked up at that. "You know, I hadn't considered that—"

“Lorne! Out. Now.” John was glaring at both civilians, looking like he would cheerfully shoot them both. Lorne grabbed Carson’s arm and hauled him out of the room, even as Beckett protested.

John turned his gaze to Rodney, his face set in a hard mask. “So?”

"So?" Rodney returned the glare.

"Are you going to make this difficult?"

"What answer do you want to hear? Which one will make you go away?"

"No answer will make me go away." John dropped into the recently vacated chair. "But we can do this the hard way, with you fighting me about it, or we can do it the easy way, where we talk for a bit, you get some sleep, then you and Beckett solve this and everything goes back to normal."

"Talking is overrated," Rodney said, scowling as he crossed his hands over his chest. "And I'm hungry."

John raised an eyebrow at him and then touched his radio. "Sheppard to the mess. I need you to bring dinner for two to McKay's quarters. He's under medical lock-down. Sheppard out." He gave Rodney a tight smile. "Problem solved."

"That's not funny."

"That's because you don't have my refined sense of humor."

"Refined? You laugh at fart jokes. I call that anything but refined."

"You just don't see the beauty of a well-crafted fart joke. I can't help it if you are a deprived individual."

Rodney snorted and shuffled back on his bed so he was leaning against the wall, the pillows at his back. "That comment doesn't deserve an answer."

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when the great Rodney McKay was struck speechless by a fart joke. And not even an actual one, just a conversation about them."

"There is no speechlessness involved here, Sheppard. The whole concept of beauty in a fart joke is just so ridiculous that it doesn't deserve any of my genius brain cells." The door chimed and Sheppard rose to his feet, moving toward the door.

"Right, I've heard some of the jokes the scientists tell in the lab. They generally involve micro-particles and concepts no one except other brilliant minds understands." He waved a soldier inside, wheeling a cart. The man parked it in the middle of the room, and quietly left. "But a fart joke, now anyone can get that. That's what makes them great. Humor that only five people out a thousand actually gets isn't very good humor."

Instead of responding, however, Rodney was staring wide-eyed at the cart, his gaze firmly fixed on the metal reflecting the light in the room.

"Shit. Rodney!" Sheppard was next to him in a second, one hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Rodney, you have to control it, like Carson told you. Don't let it overwhelm you."

He tilted his head, his eyes not leaving the cart. "They had a whole bunch of carts just like that."

"What were they used for?" The hand hadn't left his shoulder.

He shrugged, feeling the weight of Sheppard's hand. "Lots of things. Naquadah can be so heavy."

"Naquadah? I thought they used zero-point energy. The only naquadah we have here is what we brought with us."

"They use it in a lot of things," Rodney said. "It's a component in the ZedPM casing. Something about it helps to amplify the energy while containing the subspace field. Even some of the nanites are made with particles of naquadah. But they used this batch for something bigger."

"Bigger? Like the generators?"

"No," he said, his forehead furrowing for a moment, before relaxing, his gaze turning to Sheppard. "But I can show you."

John's face was a mix of concern and curiosity. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I want to know, but Rodney..."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Can I get my tablet? I want to jot a few things down."

John looked at him for a long time. "Rodney... If I take you where you want to go, can you guarantee me you won't be in any danger?"

He thought for a moment, letting memories mix. "I…don't know. I think the storm may have damaged part of the section and I don't remember if the crews have been able to get there yet. Just give me my tablet," he said, his fingers wiggling, demanding the computer.

John sighed, getting up to get the computer from the desk. "Are you always this needy in the bedroom?"

Rodney shot him an amused look. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

"Sorry McKay," Sheppard drawled, "I'm afraid you're not my type."

"Good to know, Colonel," he said grabbing the stylus and tablet from John, already pulling up a blank document even before it was settled in his lap. He started writing, equations and formulas covering the page within a few seconds. He only paused when Sheppard's hand covered his, stopping it from moving.

"Slow down. This isn't a race, and you have been sick. I don't want to have to explain how I let you injure yourself while I was sitting right here watching."

"I have to get this down. Worst I'll get is writer's cramp."

John gave him a hard look. "You have ten minutes, then you're stopping to eat. You can pick it back up after that if you want to."

"Fine. But if I forget some life-altering scientific experiment it's all your fault."

"I can live with that."

Rodney huffed, glancing down at where Sheppard was still gripping his hand. "So, you planning on letting go anytime soon?"

John hesitated, then let go. "Don't over-do it."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, Doctor Work-Till-You-Drop."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, his hand already moving quickly, the stylus writing down every line and notation as they poured from his mind. Page after page followed, his hand aching, but he didn't want to give up, couldn't. Everything depended on him getting this right.

John was silent while he worked, until suddenly the stylus was pulled out of his hand. "Time's up for the moment." He held a plate of food in the other hand, and he offered it to him.

"Give me that back," he demanded, hold his hand out. "I'm not done."

"Too bad. You can have it after you eat. When was the last time you had something other than a quick PowerBar?"

"Give me the stylus, Nigel. I have to finish these notations."

His face shut down completely, all emotion blanked out. "What did you just call me?"

"Nigel. What else would I call you? Now give that back."

"My name is John. John Sheppard. Rodney, you're lost in another memory. Get control of it, McKay." His voice was quiet, but held a note of absolute command.

"And if I don't get these notations finished, who knows what might happen to the La Grange Point satellite. I need to get these uploaded to the mainframe."

"McKay."

"Stylus. Now," he said snapping his fingers. "I don't have time for this."

John was suddenly right in front of him, his hands on his arms, squeezing almost to the point of pain. "Rodney! Get control of it! This is just a memory. Don't let it control you!"

"What are you doing?" he said, trying to struggle, trying to break free. "Just let me…I only have a few more pages of notations."

"Rodney!" John's voice held a note of desperation. "You need to snap out of it!"

"Just let me finish," he whined, his voice dropping down to a low tone.

"This isn't your work. You need to snap out of it." John tightened his grip, shaking him slightly.

"Ow! But what if it's important, Colonel?"

John's eyes widened, and he dropped back, looking haggard. "Rodney, please tell me you know who the hell you are again."

"I'm pissed off you won't let me write down some formulas and equations."

"You called my Nigel! Rodney, you're hovering between two damn worlds and I don't know how to stop it from happening!" John was up and pacing now.

"I don't know what to tell you!" He yelled back. "What does it hurt to write down some equations on a tablet PC? Do you think this is any more fun for me? I know I wrote this, but I don't remember it. I'm going to spend weeks trying to figure it out."

"And see, that's what has me concerned! A stupid metal cart set you off this time, and you aren't even trying to control it! You just slip into this other person's memories without any warning!"

Rodney sighed, all the fight going out of him. "Can we just leave it for now? I just…I can't deal with this or you right now."

Fear, hurt, concern, and anger all flashed across John's face. "Damnit, Rodney... Fine, I'll be outside your door. You don't go anywhere." He turned and walked away.

"Can you call Carson for me?" he asked before John stepped outside.

John stopped but didn't look back. He reached up to his radio. "Lorne, this is Sheppard. Get Beckett back to Rodney's quarters ASAP."

"He may want to stop at the infirmary," Rodney said, sighing.

"Why?"

"Right now I want Carson to sedate me so I can just sleep and forget about everything for a while. And it'll solve your problem, too. I won't be going anywhere. Just ask him, will you."

John jerked slightly, still not turning around. "Lorne, tell Beckett McKay's requesting sedation. Sheppard out."

"Thank you," he said, leaning back against the pillows, and closing his eyes, hating himself and the entire situation. It wasn't long before he heard the door slide open.

"Rodney..." Sheppard's voice was quiet and filled with emotion. But he didn't finish the sentence. The sound of the door sliding shut let McKay know the Colonel had moved outside.

McKay opened an eye, looking at the food still sitting on the cart. Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he shuffled over, picking at some of the items, washing them down with a few swallows of water. He returned to the bed a few minutes later, leaving the bottle on his bedside table, the tablet PC standing on its side on the floor, the equations saved to a file on the desktop.

The door slid open a few moments later to reveal Beckett backed by both Lorne and Sheppard.

"Rodney, Colonel Sheppard said you wanted me to sedate you?" Carson wasn't even trying to hide his fear or concern.

"You heard right. Just stick in the needle or give me the pill. Whatever it is I don't care."

"You've never, in all of history, ever asked to be sedated. Usually it's the other way around. What happened after I left?"

"I need to forget for a little while. I can't deal with Colonel Freak-out right now either."

Carson's eyes flashed to Sheppard, who was standing there with no expression whatsoever on his face, then back to Rodney. "Rodney... I'll sedate you if you think you need it, but not here, especially since you don't want Colonel Sheppard to stay. The drugs are too powerful to leave you unsupervised."

"Whatever. Just make it go away for a little while."

Carson's eyes were worried, but after a long hesitation, he gave in. "All right, the infirmary then. Someone is there on duty all night."

"Fine," he said, rising to his feet, grabbing the bottle of water from the table as he trailed behind Beckett. They walked to the infirmary in silence, Lorne and Sheppard forming the rear guard.

Beckett settled him in a bed at the far end of the main ward, giving him at least a modicum of privacy.

"Are you sure about this?" Carson had an IV line pulled over, and paused before inserting it.

Rodney held his gaze for a moment. "Do you think I would have asked if I wasn't?"

"I just wanted to make sure. You know I don't like this, right?" He found the vein on Rodney's arm and with a practiced moved had the line in and taped down.

"You're a vampire by trade. Always taking blood and taking this, that and the other thing. At least now you've giving something back. This shouldn't be a difficult thing to do." He paused, watching him connect all the lines. "What's with the IV? I didn't ask for that."

Carson sighed, but he hooked the line up to a waiting bag of clear fluid. "You haven’t had much more than PowerBars for the last few days, which is fine for the short term, but will do more harm than good in the long run. If I’m going to have you here, I’m giving you a dose of good nutrients.”

Once he had the drip started, He took a needle off a nearby tray, pausing again. “Don't plan on making a habit of this. It's a one-time thing unless you can come up with a valid medical reason. I'm worried about you, and that's the only reason I'm doing it now. This is dangerous, Rodney."

"No more dangerous than living in a galaxy infested with life-sucking aliens," he commented, watching as Carson paused just before pressing the needle into the IV port.

"Aye, but I have no control over the life-sucking aliens. I'm not going to get one of my patients addicted to strong sleeping medications."

Rodney's eyes slid over to where Lorne and Sheppard stood watching, the latter's face cold and hard. "Just do it already."

Carson shook his head, but carefully injected it into the IV port. "You'll have about ten minutes before you should be out completely."

"Good," Rodney said, shifting a little, pulling the blanket up higher on his chest. "Thank you," he added quietly.

Carson rested one hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. "We'll figure this out, Rodney. I promise."

"Yeah, I guess," he said, letting his body relax into the mattress.

The hand tightened briefly. "We will."

He shrugged a little, already feeling the pull of sleep. "Make sure Zelenka takes a look at the tablet," he said, his voice already slurring a little.

"I'll make sure he stops by tomorrow when you wake up. You can tell him yourself. Now go to sleep."

His eyelids were getting heavier, refusing to stay open any longer. "Yes, mom," he said faintly as the drug finally pulled him under and he slept.

***

Carson watched his friend drift off into sleep, relieved that at least he knew the man was going to get a good night’s sleep. Once he was sure Rodney was out, he dropped down into a nearby chair. He let his mind drift for a minute, forgetting he wasn’t alone. He jerked when a hand touched his shoulder, reminding him of their presence.

"Ready to head back, Doc?"

"Major, I think you are trying to give me a heart attack with all the sneaking around. And actually, I think I'm going to try and get some paperwork done. I'm here, and I'd like to be close in case anything happens."

"He's out cold, right?" Sheppard asked, still standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on the sleeping scientist.

"Aye, that will keep him asleep for the next ten hours or so. I've used it on him before, and that seems to be the average time. He was exhausted, so it might be a bit longer than that. You should get some sleep, Colonel, you look like you've been hit by a truck."

"You trust your staff?"

"Of course I do. They wouldn't be here if I didn't"

"Then," he said, stepping around the bed and pulling Carson to his feet. "Go quietly with Lorne and get some rest in your quarters."

Carson's eyes widened. Cheeky bugger. "Colonel, this is still my infirmary. If anyone needs to rest, it's you. You've had a long week. In fact, consider that a medical order. If you feel the need to have someone watch Rodney while he sleeps, I'm sure one of your soldiers will be happy to do it."

"Your staff can watch him. I want to make sure you get some rest. I know where my quarters are. Do you?"

Carson shook his head. "I know you mean well, but this is my responsibility. I have to make sure the rest of Atlantis is in good condition before I can go rest myself."

"Beckett," he growled. "Remember our conversation about the East Pier?"

Carson slumped back into the chair. "I'm not trying to be difficult, not this time. I am exhausted. It's been a long day. But I can't rest knowing Rodney is here like this. I need to use this time while I know he's safe to try and find a way to help him."

"You can sleep in your bed for a few hours first," Sheppard said, already manhandling him toward the door. "McKay'snot going anywhere."

Carson dug in his heels. "I'll make you a deal, John. If you agree to head to bed yourself for a few hours of sleep, I'll do the same." He could access the database just as easily from the laptop in his room as he could his office, anyway.

"Fine with me. The cot for Lorne should be in your room already."

"Cot? All right, I grudgingly agreed to be babysat, but if you actually want me to sleep, that isn't going to work. No offense Major." He shot an apologetic look backwards.

"None taken, Doc."

"I know you, Beckett," John said. "You're going to smile and tell me your going to sleep, but you'll be in your room playing on your laptop. I may look dumb, but remember, I could have been MENSA."

Carson growled in frustration. "Why are you doing this? What difference does it make if I do research instead of sleeping? I can understand not wanting me to go off and play with technology you aren't sure about, but this is my job, it's why I'm here."

"And you're about ready to drop. Sleep for a few hours and then do your research. That's all I’m asking. You need to be at your best for McKay's sake. We can't keep doing this."

"I've done more on far less sleep, Colonel. I'm lucky to get two or three hours a night most of the time. I assure you I am perfectly capable of functioning on very little sleep."

"I'm sure you are, but right now you don't have to."

He shook his head. "I always have to. The Atlantis staff comes first, including you and Rodney and Major Lorne. I don't sleep until everyone is out of danger, and Rodney isn't past that point yet."

"Fine!" he said finally, throwing his hands in the air. "Kill yourself too. I don't care. Lorne, watch him. Call me when he drops dead." Sheppard turned on his heel and headed out the door.

"Colonel." Carson knew he should just let him leave, be satisfied with getting his way, but he had to make him understand. "I... Please, understand..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Do you have any idea how many patients I've lost because I stopped to sleep and something happened? How many times just being there has made the difference? Why do you think I went into research and out of clinical practice? I got pulled back into it here, but..." His shoulders slumped, and suddenly he felt far more tired than he had.

"And tired soldiers make mistakes and get more people killed. I understand completely, Beckett. Do what you think is best since you're obviously not going to listen to me," he said, standing in the doorway.

He flinched from the harsh tone, telling himself John was just tired and had been through a lot in the past day. But he couldn't keep the pain out of his own voice. "I don't know how to stop. If I stop, people die."

"And if you continue at this rate, others will. Your choice."

He closed his eyes, swaying slightly, but out of exhaustion or the words, he didn't know. "That's harsh."

"That's life and I'm sick and tired of beating around the bush. Get some rest, Beckett, before you make a mistake that will cost McKay far more than his mind."

He couldn't fight anymore. He felt it drain out of him, leaving him empty. "Fine."

"Lorne," he heard Sheppard say, "make sure he gets some sleep. Call me if there's any problem. I'll be in my quarters after I brief Elizabeth."

"Yes, sir." Lorne took his shoulder and started leading him toward his room.

Carson didn’t protest this time. He wasn’t sure why the harshness had left him so cold, goodness knows he had had patients and friends and relatives act far worse. And he knew the Colonel was under a tremendous amount of stress. He didn’t even really register his surroundings until they were at his door. “Major, are you really going to sleep at the foot of my bed?”

"At the foot, no. On the cot near the window, yes. Order are orders, Doc," he said, gesturing Carson inside and following a few seconds behind. "He means well, you know."

Carson sighed, pulling off his lab coat and draping it over a chair. This wouldn't be the first time he slept fully dressed. "I know, but I think he forgets that Rodney and I aren't soldiers sometimes. Neither of us is used to taking orders, and, well, being treated like a subordinate."

"He's worried. Real worried," Lorne said after a few moments. "I've actually never seen him like this before."

"I know." He dropped on to the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"It's not a good excuse, but it's the only one I have," Lorne said, shrugging off his long-sleeved BDU top, leaving the black t-shirt on underneath.

"He's just doing his job. I just resent that he is'na letting me do mine. I know he cares about McKay, they are close friends and we all need that out here. But sometimes I think he forgets that being the one to stay behind and patch everyone up is a far harder job. I have to watch you all risk your lives, and then I'm expected to find miracles to put you back together again."

"And all he wants is for you to be at your best. He's seen far too many people die because someone didn't take care of themselves." Lorne paused. "And so have I."

"Aye, and I've seen too many people die because I didn't get there fast enough, wasn't good enough to save them. I've spent large chunks of my life avoiding large blocks of sleep, since every time I stop, it seems like someone else gets hurt because of it." Carson closed his eyes. The conversation was starting to depress him.

"McKay's in good hands," Lorne finally said, his voice quiet. "And once you get some rest, he'll be in the best hands Atlantis can offer. Please?"

Carson felt the familiar knot form in his chest, made of up expectations that he could find the cure, save someone. He set the alarm to go off in three hours, the curled up on his side. "Enjoy your nap, Major. You need the rest as much as Sheppard does."

"No kidding, Doc. You've not exactly been easy to keep up with."

He chuckled. "Sorry about that, lad. Welcome to the wonderful world of emergency medicine."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Just remind me not to run if you have a needle in your hand and it's aimed my way. You'll stick me with it before I even get a few feet away."

"I have faith in your running abilities. I just need to make sure I always get a good head start on you."

"Trust me, doc," he said, flipping off the lights as he settled onto the cot. "You don't need a head start."

"Maybe not, but it never hurts to have one."

"Night," he said chuckling softly.

"Night. And for what it's worth, thanks." Carson closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax. If nothing else, he had learned to fall asleep fast and take advantage of whatever sleep he could get. It wasn't more than a few minutes before he had drifted off.

***

Rodney woke slowly, the whoosh of the Atlantis environmental systems easing him to alertness. His mouth was dry—an annoying side-effect of the sedation, he knew, but he had asked for it.

He floated for a while, hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, of not having to think about anything deep or meaningful.

The shuffle of someone near his bed, urged him upward and he cracked an eye, the lid lifting slowly.

Carson was standing at the end of the bed reading his chart. He glanced over and smiled when he saw the evidence of wakefulness. "And how are you feeling this morning? Better?"

Nodding slightly, he shifted a little, watching as Beckett moved to grab the water on the bedside table. He offered the straw and Rodney took a long pull, relishing the wetness in his mouth. "Thanks." Leaning back again, he opened both eyes, regarding his friend carefully. It looked like he'd gotten some sleep, but it was obviously not enough. "How long?"

Carson leaned against the bed, setting the cup down on the nearby table. "You've been asleep for about eleven hours. The grogginess should start to fade over the next half hour or so. When you feel up to it, let me know, and I'll remove the IV and we can get to work. I'm leaving it in until then to get the most nutrients that I can in you."

"Okay," he said, nodding, letting his eyes slid shut as he sighed.

He felt Carson squeeze his arm once in reply, and then heard him move back out of the room.

Eleven hours of nothingness—of not thinking—was a good thing. He drifted for a while, not really listening to anything. He could hear a few conversations down at the other end of the infirmary, more background noise than anything. A few people had walked by, pausing near him but not disturbing him. It was strange in a way. He was used to being poked and prodded.

A hand on his arm, finally pulled him back and he opened his eyes. He was still a little groggy, but that would dissipate quickly.

"All right, I want to get you up and moving. The sedative should have worn off by now, and getting up and getting your blood flowing will be the best thing to dispel any lingering fuzziness." Carson helped him sit up slowly, quickly removing the IV once he was upright.

It was annoying when Beckett read his mind. The room spun a little, but steadied quickly. "Have to pee," he muttered, just loud enough for Carson to hear.

"Go right ahead. Ignore the watchdogs. Major Lorne is sitting by the doors to the infirmary, and you'll run into Colonel Sheppard when you get around the corner as well." Carson stepped back, but stayed close enough to lend a hand if needed.

"Fun. Do they get to watch me, too?"

"If they try, feel free to holler for a nurse. I've a few burly aides that might be able to distract them while you sneak around."

Rodney scowled. "That's just taking this to a whole other level if they don't trust us to visit the facilities by ourselves. And there's only one door! I can see the ones in the halls with multiple entries. But here…" He shook his head and slid off the bed, Carson's steadying hand keeping him on his feet.

"Aye, but I'm a bit tired of fighting the Colonel on this. He's afraid and that's making him angry and downright snippy. The quickest way to get rid of them is to just figure this out. While you were sleeping, I did a bit of research that may or may not help. I'll fill you in when you're ready."

"Research?" He said, turning to scowl at the doctor. "What kind of research?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "I did'na try the chair again; even if I had wanted to, Major Lorne was under orders not to let me anywhere near it. Nae, I've been going through the database, looking for instances of memory-sharing. The Ancients branched off into some very experimental stuff at times."

Rodney chuckled humorlessly. "No kidding." He took a few steps, his hand reaching for the next bed as his balance shifted more than he expected.

Carson grabbed his elbow, steadying him. "Take it slow. I gave you a pretty powerful sedative to make sure you stayed in deep sleep, where you wouldn't have any dreams."

He glanced up, eyes widening, but he nodded. "Didn't have any."

"Good. Then you got a good night's rest. You look much better than you did yesterday."

"I don't think I even want to look in a mirror," he said, rubbing at his chin and the stubble there. "I'm guessing my razor is off-limits, eh? Think I can take a quick shower?"

Carson grimaced a bit. "Tell you what, I know you won't do anything stupid, so just don't mention the razor to Sheppard until after you're done. I keep the facilities here stocked for patients who can'na make it to their own rooms, so you should have everything you need."

"Thanks," he said, heading out again, taking it one step at a time. When he reached the small infirmary bathroom he did feel better and took his time getting himself at least looking presentable. He spent a few minutes after he got out of the shower just staring in the mirror, looking at his face in surprise. He hadn't realized how tired and drawn he appeared.

Shaking off his thoughts, he shaved quickly, feeling a little more like himself.

Sheppard, though, didn't look happy when he stepped out of the bathroom.

"What the hell took so long?" Sheppard was standing in his path, leaning against the wall in his deceptively lazy pose.

"What? I decide to take something a little longer than a military shower and you complain?"

"You look better, but don't think I didn't notice that Beckett let you have a razor. Him and I will chat about that later."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his good mood quickly leaving. "I'm actually surprised you weren't hovering in the bathroom. I’m glad you restrained yourself."

Sheppard pushed off the wall, moving closer. "Look, I'm just worried all right? Can you cut me some slack here? Every time I turn around you're either half-dead or possessed, so I'm getting a little paranoid."

"You need to cut me some slack," Rodney said, refusing to back down. "Do you think this is easy with you freaking out every time I see something or remember something? And what is it with the Ancients and those stupid plants? Did they have a foliage fetish or something?"

Sheppard blinked a few times, then took a deep breath. "All right, tell you what, I'll back off a bit if you'll just work with Beckett and get this straightened out. Stop stalling. Okay?"

"If you think this is stalling, just wait until I start," he said, grumbling as he started back to where Carson was waiting a small paper cup in his hand.

"Now children, it's too early to start bickering yet." Carson downed the contents of the cup, tossing it into a nearby trashcan and grimacing slightly. "Rodney, I uploaded what little I was able to find last night to your laptop. Why don't we start there?"

Rodney raised an eyebrow toward Carson, but didn't comment. He knew Sheppard would get on his case eventually. He was worse than a pitbull. "Who gave you access to my laptop?" he asked as he climbed back up on to the bed.

Carson pulled a chair over, sitting down and setting his own laptop on the bed. "I did'na ask. I figured you would ask me to do it anyway, since I'm going to keep searching while you look through what's already there."

"How did you figure out my password," he grumbled, navigating through some of the notes Carson had uploaded. "And how long were you working on this?"

"I asked Radek. And no, I don't know how he knew it." Carson was already starting to scroll through screens of text. "And I spent last night working on it. Why?"

"There's a lot here. More than I thought," he said, narrowing his eyes at a specific section.

"I've been going slow, but instead of skimming, I'm tackling each entry I come across that looks promising a bit more in-depth. That way we hopefully won't have to do as much back-tracking."

"Yeah," he said absently.

"A lot of this is completely out of my field, so if you see something that looks promising, let me know."

"What?" he asked, pulling his attention away from the screen. He snapped his fingers toward Sheppard. "Tablet PC, now."

"How many computers do you need McKay?"

"As many as it takes," he replied, glaring for a moment when it was obvious the man wasn't moving. "Well?"

With a put-upon sigh, Sheppard tapped his radio. "Lorne, this is Sheppard. Run down to McKay's quarters and grab his tablet PC. I'll keep an eye on them for a few minutes. They're both involved, so I doubt we need to worry about an escape attempt." He paused for a moment, grinning slightly at whatever reply the Major had made. "Too right. Sheppard out."

McKay scowled. "You didn't bring it with you?"

"Why would I haul your laptop around with me?"

"It was obviously important to me last night. Don't tell me you didn't read through the notes I made."

John rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't even understand half of it, why would I even bother trying to read it? Not to mention, you would have thrown a hissy-fit if I had."

Shaking his head, he turned back to the laptop. "Maybe because I know you better than you think."

Sheppard huffed then resumed his casual lean against a nearby wall, watching them. "I got a pretty good look over your shoulder while you were writing it. I didn't need to go back and read it later."

"Uh huh," he said absently, already absorbed in the database. He wasn't sure how long passed, but his tablet appeared at his elbow and he quickly started jotting things down in a new document, making notes and various notations.

Carson's voice suddenly cut into the working silence. "I've found another entry that could be applicable. Do you want another upload?"

"Huh?" He looked over at the other man, his eyes a little bleary.

Carson gave him a once-over, probably not even realizing he was doing it. "I have a bit more information for you, and you look like you could use a break. I know I'm hungry and could use some lunch."

"No, I'm fine. Coffee would be good though," he said, turning back to the laptop.

"Do you really think saying something like that to your doctor will work?" Carson moved, a muffled popping sound coming from his back as he stretched a bit. "We don't have to stop completely, but I do think food is in order. Colonel, would you mind having something sent up? Rodney, any preferences, or are you brave enough to let the Colonel choose?"

He glanced up briefly, not really seeing Sheppard. He waved his hand absently. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

After a moment, Sheppard radioed down to the mess, having lunch for four sent up. Carson looked up again from the laptop he had gone back to. "Four? I don't know about Rodney, but I don't think I can eat that much food."

“Lorne and I will be joining you. And just so you know Rodney, you will be stopping to eat. You can either set the computer aside when food gets here, or I can take it from you, I’ll give you until then to decide.”

McKay didn't answer, his eyes still unfocused as he stared at Sheppard. There was something he was missing. Something big.

"Rodney, is everything okay?" Carson's voice held a note of concern. He reached out to lay a hand Rodney's leg, his touch light.

"I don't know," he answered quietly. "I'm missing something."

"How can I help you track it down? Just tell me what you need."

He turned, hand out. "Give me your laptop."

Carson pushed it over within reach. "I've sent you everything I have, but if you think I missed something, go right ahead. Just do me a favor and don't try to hack my passwords. Those are patient files. If you need to get at anything I'm protecting, ask me, and I'll pull it up for you."

"I already know how to get in there," he said absently, his hands already flying over the laptop, accessing the database from Carson's terminal. He eyes bounced between the two laptops while he made notes on his tablet.

"Please don't tell me you've been hacking patient files. I don't want to know." Carson stood up and moved to where he could see both screens. "What are you looking for?"

"Not looking, finding and be quiet," he said without raising his head.

Carson sighed, but continued to watch.

After a few minutes, a soldier brought in a cart with four trays of food, Major Lorne right behind him. “All right kids, time to break for lunch.” Sheppard came over to stand next to Rodney, although he didn’t pull anything out of his hands.

"Not now."

"Rodney..." The Colonel's tone held a note of warning in it.

"Working."

"You can go back to work after you eat. I'm not asking for a long lunch, just ten minutes to stop and rest for a minute. You two haven't stopped for hours."

"What part of not now, working, do you not understand?" he said, without looking up, his right hand and stylus scribbling furiously on the tablet while his eyes tracked between the laptops.

Sheppard stood up straight and started to reach over to pull the laptop out of his hands, but Carson was faster. He had gone over to the cart and grabbed two sandwiches. One he was already eating, and the other he put directly onto Rodney’s keyboard. “There we go, problem solved.”

"Hey!" He hollered, shooting a venomous look at the doctor. "That was uncalled for, not to mention unsanitary. You probably got crumbs in the keyboard. Is that why I have to send someone to clean out your keyboards so often?"

Carson just grinned at him. "You have two hands, write with one, eat with the other. I thought it was a brilliant solution myself."

"You're as bad as Nydia," he grumbled, picking the sandwich up off the keyboard and taking a bite.

"Great, I'm back to being compared to someone's wife." Carson shoved him over slightly so he could actually sit on the bed next to him, setting his own computer in his lap, angled so Rodney could still see it.

"Yeah, mine. You were the one who insisted we get married."

“Not again,” the other man groaned.

“Do I look female to you? I don’t even sound like a bloody woman, why does he keep deciding I’m Nydia?”

"I didn't say you were my wife, idiot. Just that you're like her." He shook his head, looking at Avitus strangely. "What is it about siblings?"

"Siblings? First I'm his wife, now I'm his brother. At least I hope its brother." Avitus was trying to read the rapidly scrolling text. "Have you found anything?"

He sent him a strange look before going back to the laptop. "Actually, there's a lot of interesting things in here. Nigel never let me poke around too much. Claimed I got too side-tracked."

"I thought Nigel was supposed to be Durand's assistant. Why would he have had any say as to how much time he spent in the database?"

“Beckett…” The other man's voice was a low growl.

“Not now, Colonel. Let me handle it.” Avitus's tone held its own note of steel.

"Nigel was the head of the Atlantis science department. What made you ever think he was my assistant? Of course he could tell me where to look and what to do."

"I don't know, I was guessing. Durand didn't talk much about his past, at least the time before he was forced to join the program. Have you found anything about memory sharing and how to control it? I don't want you to get side-tracked either."

"Yeah, there were a bunch of things," he said, dropping the sandwich in his hand on the bed beside him. Picking up the tablet, he scrolled back a few pages. "There's some references here to the secondary chair, but I can see in the system that it's offline. But that was really only for emergencies only. But then there were some interesting systems down in the East Pier labs, back near the medical research labs."

The two men exchanged a long hard look before Avitus continued. "Yes, we know about the secondary chair, it's currently not really accessible. But what about these other systems? What were they designed to do?"

"A few things," he said, shifting on the bed and drawing his legs up into a semi-indian-style position. He stopped the scrolling screen and pointed. "In the one lab, it looks like someone was working on ascension—again," he said, rolling his eyes. "There's a few notes that I still need to work through, but that's not what's interesting. There's this other thing. I guess you can say it's supposed to help those who are a little out of touch with reality." He looked up, eyes earnest. "It's still surprising to me that so many people aren't right in their heads. I mean that's the most important thing, isn't it? If you don't have your mind, there's really nothing left."

Avitus swallowed hard, and then rapidly read through the notes on the screen. "Aye, that's always a bit sad when it happens. This doesn't really have any information on how it works though. Do you know, or can you make any guesses? I need to know that before I try to use it on any patients."

"This is just the overviews," he said, pulling the tablet back and scrolling to where he'd left off. "I'd need to look at the actual terminals in the lab. That's where all the real stuff was kept."

Avitus watched him for a moment, before sliding off the bed. "Colonel, we need to head down there. I know you don't want us down there, but if he's right, and can get me into the medical research database that tells me if these systems are still operational and how they work, I might be able to use them to bring Rodney back to himself."

"Of course I'm right," he said, bristling, narrowing his eyes. "And did you have to tell him?"

Avitus glanced over at him. "I believe you. And since if either of us tries to even think about heading in that direction at the moment without his okay, we'll be tackled and strapped down, I sort of did have to tell him."

The other man, Nigel, frowned. “I don’t like this. Can’t you access the systems from here? From the main terminals you patch in to via the laptops?”

"No, of course not, Nigel, or are you as dumb as I think you are?"

The doctor bent over, laughing. "Oh my, God, of all the people to decide to project Nigel onto...."

“Beckett, shut up.” Nigel glared, then turned back. “Fine, I’ll be Nigel or whoever. What terminals do we need to access, and where are they located?”

He raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. Something was wrong here. "What's going on here? What are you asking me all of these questions? Until you explain what's going on here I'm not telling you anything else."

Avitus straightened up. "I have a—patient—who is currently struggling to get control of some extra memories. Someone gave him theirs by accident when attempting to give him information, and now he is having a hard time distinguishing between his own life and the remembered life. You're helping me try to find a way to help him."

"I am?"

"Aye, and you've found a solution I think might work. Once I see the terminals and the information on these systems you pinpointed, I think I might be able to help him. But I'd imagine I'll need your help once we get down there. If the Colonel—ah Nigel—agrees that is."

"So?" He asked, turning his glare on the other man. "You have the tendency to say no to just about anything I ask, so I'm not expecting much. But can you really turn Avitus down when a life's at stake? That's the real question."

“Avitus? I still have no bloody clue if that’s a male or female name,” Avitus muttered under his breath.

Nigel looked at both of them for a long time. “Fine, but you, stay within my sight at all times. And you,” he pointed at Avitus, “stay within Lorne’s sight. If either of you tries to make a break for it, I’m calling the whole thing off.”

He slid off the bed, his knees giving way a little, only catching himself on the edge of the bed. "What the…?"

Avitus grabbed his elbow, giving him some support. "You've been sitting all day, after a few days of being sick. Once you get moving, the weakness should pass."

He shot a surprised look to the man at his elbow. "Sick? Well, that explains some things I guess," he said, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Thanks."

"Aye, and the sooner we get this project finished, the happier I'll be. You can get some real rest then."

"Good. I can't have Nydia yelling at me again, can I? It's bad enough that she didn't want me coming here. What is it with your sister?"

"Ah…well, Um, maybe she's just worried about you? Quite a few of us are, you've been working too hard lately."

"It's my job to work hard," he said, stepping into the transporter, waiting for everyone to fall in before pushing their destination. "Why am I arguing with you? It seems that's the only thing Nydia and I talk about anymore."

"I'm not arguing. We all work hard, its just part of life here I guess. But that doesn't stop us from worrying about each other, does it?"

"I guess," he said shrugging, as the doors slid open. He stepped out, his eyes widening. "Uh…what happened here?"

"Ah, flooding and power failure in this section. It had to be shut down for a bit." Avitus—Carson— took his elbow and started guiding him towards the labs.

"No, wait," he said pulling his arm away, putting a hand to his head.

Worry flashed across Carson's face before it was hidden again. "What's wrong?"

"Carson, just give me a minute, okay?"

Beckett sagged against a wall. "You need some sort of sign or flashing light to let me know who I'm talking to at any given time. I can't keep this up much longer, Rodney."

McKay glanced over at his friend, noting the hovering Colonel. "Sorry. Why should you get a warning when I don't get one?"

"Aye, I know. The sooner we get this fixed, the happier we'll all be. Do you know what you were looking for? The systems and terminals? If you point me in the right direction, I can start working on them."

"Actually, Kate might be better for this particular lab," he said, cringing. "It was one of the…" He wiggled his fingers up toward his head. "Let's just say it's even more voodoo than what you do."

Carson shook his head. "If we need her, I'll call her. I do know a bit about psychology, even though it isn't my primary field. I know you don't particularly like her, and it would be better to keep this group as small as possible, since that will make it a bit easier for you if you slip into the memories again."

"I wasn't suggesting you call her, just saying what this lab was for. It's like some big interactive brain scan thing, I think."

"Sort of like an advanced MRI?"

"If you call being able to see mental images like an advanced MRI, sure." He sighed, catching the glare from Sheppard. "I know what he's looking for. Can we just go?"

"Aye, let's see what we can do." Carson glanced back to see Major Lorne was still there, and then headed down the hall. "Coming?"

Rodney mumbled under his breath, but moved forward, Sheppard on his heels. It took a bit of maneuvering to get to the lab. A few of the corridors were too damaged to use, so they had to go the long way around. By the time they got there, they were all grumpy and irritated.

"This had better be worth it." Sheppard hadn't stopped glaring for the last ten minutes, his expression getting steadily darker.

"We'll only find out once we use it," Rodney said, sliding into one of the chairs and activating the main terminal.

Beckett slipped into the chair next to him, lying on hand on Rodney's wrist. "Show me, or better yet, tell me what to do. If you slip into another memory, I want to be able to continue working."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Right now I’m turning it on."

Beckett made a face at him. "You know what I meant."

"Look," Rodney said, turning in the chair to face Carson. "I know mostly what I'm looking for, but it's going to take some time. I'll know what it is when I find it, not any sooner. You just have to trust me to know what I'm doing, whoever I happen to be at that particular time." He paused, taking a breath. "And if it's any consolation, Durand was never in this lab—at least I have no memory of it specifically. He felt the same about the psychiatric doctors as I do, so he had no real reason to be down here."

Carson's face went through a variety of emotions before finally settling on resignation. "It is'na that I don't trust you. It's more that no matter who you are, I'm the one who's going to be operating this thing. If you think you're someone else, it might be a tad difficult to convince you to go stand in there while I make it work. Just... try to tell me what you're doing as you do it, just in case, okay?"

Rodney sighed. "Fine. But you do know that I'm feeling fine, right?"

"Aye, physically you're dandy. But none of us have any warnings before you start thinking I'm your wife or brother or whatever." He leaned back in the chair, where he could see what was going on. "Let's just try to be quick about this, shall we?"

Sheppard decided to chime in at that point. “Quick is good. Stop chatting and start working.”

Rodney scowled over his shoulder, before turning back to the console. "You know, he's not getting any more charming the longer he stands around glaring at us."

Carson chuckled. "I think I got lucky. Major Lorne has proven to be much less snippy and far more pleasant."

"Must be the hair," he said, studying the screen he'd pulled up for a second before clicking through to several others.

“Rodney, I do have a gun, and I can shoot you.” Sheppard was stalking around the room, looking like he was setting up an unconscious perimeter.

"And what good would that do?" Rodney asked, raising his voice so the Colonel could hear him, his fingers still poking away at the buttons.

“It would make me feel better.”

"I'll keep that in mind, Colonel." He paused, leaning forward a little. "Huh. That's interesting."

Carson leaned forward, mimicking his movement. "What?"

"I was right, but that just makes it all the more disturbing. Let's not tell Kate about this, okay?"

"So this is some sort of machine to let you see and manipulate someone's mind?" Carson sounded a bit sick. "In this particular case that's useful, but..."

"No, it's different. Granted you can probably do some severe damage with this thing, but you can also help to heal someone that had been affected by a severe trauma by compartmentalizing the memories away from the conscious state. In a way, it would restrict them from the person totally, and only the medical practitioner would have access to them." He shook his head. "No wonder Durand knew nothing about this. It's apparently still in an experimental stage."

Carson stared at him for a moment. "So, you actually want me to go in and shut some of your memories away in a little bubble that only I can access? And what do you mean experimental? What could go wrong?"

"Isn't that what you're been looking for?" Rodney asked, turning to him. "It's not like I can actually do my job like this." He lifted his left hand to gesture toward his head. "And sending me home is out of the question."

"I guess this just wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I agree it's probably the best option, but I think, when this is all over, I might be sick."

"You'll be sick and then I'll have no memory of it. Sounds like fun in Pegasus," he commented, turning back to the screen.

"No, no, I'll wait until afterwards to get sick. I wouldn't want you to miss out." Carson was looking a bit green, but he sat forward on the edge of the seat. "All right, what do I need to do then?"

"Um…" he said, scanning the files. "Here we go. We should probably translate this for you, eh?"

"That would be a help, yes. I've picked up a few words, but not enough to have any clue what that says."

"Yeah, and it seems that not long after the procedure starts I won't be able to answer any questions. Oh this looks better and better." He turned toward the other men hovering. "Anyone bring my tablet?"

Major Lorne produced the tablet, casting a glance at his commander from the corner of his eye. “I snagged it on the way out, since you seemed to be writing a lot of notes.”

"Thank you, Major. I'm glad someone is on the ball," he said, opening up a new document and beginning to scribble quickly.

Carson's eyes had gotten a bit wild. "Ah, Rodney, when you said you wouldn't be able to answer questions... this is going to hurt you, isn't it?"

"That's where it gets a bit fuzzy," he said, still making notes. "According to the last test, the procedure went smoothly. But it seems that they had to put the patient under or else there were some…disastrous results. I'm not really looking forward to you messing in my mind without me present, but it doesn't look like I have much choice in the matter."

"Put you out? Rodney, I didn't bring any sedatives with me, much less anesthesia. Not to mention doing that here, out in the middle of no where with no access to the rest of the infirmary would be insane."

"Um…I think they built that part into the system."

"Great, so now I'm not only messing with your head, I also have to worry about what might go wrong with their drugging system. This just keeps getting better." Carson had stood up and was pacing a bit. "What if I hurt you? Or damage you?"

Rodney paused, putting down the stylus and looking up at his friend. "At this point in time, I honestly don't think you can do any damage. Durand managed that all by himself."

Carson shook his head. "He did'na mean to do damage. I don't think he really understood the differences between the way we think and the way the Ancients thought, and he knew you wanted more information on how their technology works. Nothing is broken, your mind is still intact, you just have more information than you can process. But with this thing...Rodney, are you sure you want to do this? We could keep looking, see if there's another way."

"Durand didn't know anything else as far as I can tell, and God only knows how much damage is being done right now."

"All right, if you're sure." Carson sat back down, staring at his hands in his lap. "Let me know when you finish the translation, I'd like to go through it once with you before..."

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm almost done," he said, turning back to the tablet. "Give me a few more minutes."

Sheppard continued to stalk the room, glaring at everyone. "Rodney, I don't know if I like this idea. When we came down here, you didn't tell me it was so you could climb in a machine and let Beckett screw with your mind."

"Did you ask?"

He whirled around, his face tight. "I didn't think I had to."

"And I wasn't sure exactly what was down here. I only found that part out when I got here and turned on the terminal in the room. Would you rather we wait and see what else these memories will end up going to be if they continue this way? I know you're not going to let me go back to work, that's for sure."

The Colonel's body was stiff, his face devoid of any emotion. "Get it working. And so help me Beckett, if you slip..."

“Trust me, Colonel, I’m doing enough worrying about that here for the both of us. I am well aware that one mistake means I wipe out or damage Rodney’s mind.”

"And isn't that a pleasant thought," Rodney snipped.

Carson looked up at him. "I won't make any mistakes."

"I know," Rodney said, catching Carson's eye. "I trust you." He paused, checking over his notes. "You ready?"

Carson nodded, and moved to look over his shoulder. "What do I do?"

"Well, first," he said, looking over the console and pushing a single button. A medical bed slid out of the wall at the far side of the room. "We need that and…" He looked over everything and pushed another button. Several compartments opened revealing wires, "And that. There's a diagram on the console here that you need to look at. You'll control everything from here. The step-by-step directions are on here," he said, gesturing to the tablet.

Carson's hand shook slightly as he sat down, rapidly reading the notes on the tablet. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a peculiar mix of calm steadiness and terror. "All right, I think I understand. Once you're hooked up, I'll be able to see your memories, and should be able to isolate the ones that aren't yours."

"Basically, yes."

He gave him a weak grin. "Maybe if you could think in an off color for a bit, purple maybe, that would make it easier to tell your memories apart from Durand's."

"A color? I'm not thinking of a color."

"Right. Nevermind. Well, no time like the present. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve, or you lose yours."

"So, where do you want me?"

***

Carson closed his eyes for a second, forcing all his fears, all his doubts, all his concerns down deep. It was a trick he had learned in med school; when there was too much emotion involved, a doctor had to be able to rise above it and be the voice of reason. Be the protector, the one who offered comfort. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but he hadn’t yet met anyone who practiced medicine who didn’t engage in some form of it.

Opening his eyes, he squeezed Rodney’s arm once, then gestured at the bed. “Go ahead and get comfortable and I’ll hook you up.”

"You're kidding, right? Comfortable? Comfortable would be in my quarters in my bed."

"Well, there are degrees of comfortable. There's your quarters, then there's here, where you can at least make sure you get settled with nothing twisted wrong or falling asleep on you."

He rolled his eyes and wandered over to the table glaring down at it before turning back to Carson. "You know, we can keep looking."

Carson looked up, surprised at the sudden reversal. He saw the fear Rodney was trying to hide, and had to squelch his own again. "You said yourself this was our best option, and we don't know if these memories are doing any harm. Trust me, Rodney."

"I know, I know, I know. It's just that the more I think of it, the less I think I want to deal with any of this."

"And the faster we get this over with, the sooner you don't have to deal with it any more."

"I don't want you rushing through this just to get it over with quicker," Rodney said, scowling. "If we're doing this it has to be done right."

"Trust me. I wouldn't have agreed to do it if I didn't think I could."

"God," he said, clasping his hands together. "I wasn't this nervous when I defended my doctorate."

Moving back to where Rodney was standing, he lowered his voice so the soldiers couldn't hear him. "I know. I promise, I'll fix this."

"I know, I know. I am allowed to panic, you know. It's what I do. This is my brain we're talking about."

"I'd be worried about you if you weren't panicking." He put his hands on Rodney's shoulders, catching and holding the man's eyes. "But I will not make a mistake. You are going to be fine."

"Of course I'll be fine," he said, straightening away from Carson's hands and sitting down on the table. "Um…how do you want me on this thing?"

Nodding, Carson arranged him on the bed, hooking up the various wires as the diagram had illustrated. He double-checked that everything was correct before catching Rodney's eyes once again. "Are you ready?"

"No."

"Take a deep breath and count to ten, then release it. Keep doing that until you're ready."

"In that case, we'll be here for months. Just get on with it."

Carson nodded, and reached over, hitting the switch that would begin the process. He saw Rodney's eyes starting to close almost immediately, the traces of panic still there. "Trust me, Rodney. Just relax and trust me."

"Sure…" he said, his eyes closing completely.

Carson watched his friend fall asleep to drugs or something else he had no knowledge of. He swallowed hard, glad there was no one to see his hands shake. Then he remembered the silent soldiers behind him and forced himself to be steady. He took a moment to look over the notes Rodney had made. It took several minutes for the patient to be fully asleep and unaware, and he wasn't going to risk anything by jumping in too fast.

"Doc?"

He jumped. "Major?"

"You okay there?" Lorne asked quietly.

He stared at the notes, unwilling to look up. "Aye. I can do this."

"I know you can, but I do have a question."

"Okay. What?" He looked up, his mask back in place.

Lorne's face was deadly serious. "How can you read his handwriting?"

The question startled a laugh out of Carson. "I've seen worse. I don't think a single one of my professors practiced what I would call written communication. Compared to them, Rodney's is a piece of cake."

"Good," Lorne said with a smile. "You look better now. A little less constipated."

Carson shook his head. "You had better be watching yourself, Major. If you aren't careful, I might just start to like you."

He laughed lightly. "I'll keep that in mind, Doc," he said patting his arm. "Let's get McKay back to normal so he can terrorize the science staff. They've been feeling lonely."

Carson nodded, offering another small smile before turning back to the terminal. According the readings, Rodney was as deeply asleep as he was going to get. It was now or never.

He pushed a series of buttons the instructions had given him, and suddenly the rather featureless room was filled. With images. Thoughts. Words. This was Rodney’s mind all around them.

He saw flashes of people he assumed were his parents and sister. Saw the science team and the rest of the Atlantis personnel. Saw places and people and things that were tainted with every emotion possible. Behind him, he heard both Sheppard and Lorne gasp.

“When we leave here, we don’t tell anyone what we’ve seen. If Rodney chooses to share any of this with us, fine, but otherwise…”

"No kidding," Sheppard said, gazing around the room at everything. "This is all in there? All at once?"

"Aye, and I suspect that's why the extra memories didn't drive him mad. Rodney's mind—he always says he's a genius, but now I can see why. I can't believe how many things he can mentally juggle at once." Carson looked around, and after a moment, started to distinguish a pattern. The longer he looked, the easier it was to tell which memories belonged, and which ones were from someone else.

"Beckett?" Sheppard asked, his voice quiet and level.

"Aye?" He wanted to be sure of what he was doing before he started, so he was closely examining each memory, mentally tagging it as Rodney's or Durand's.

"You've been staring at everything for close to an hour now. I didn't want to interrupt…but, don't you think you should do something?"

An hour? Carson turned to look at him, could feel his eyes widening a bit. "It has'na been that long. I just started. I want to make sure I know which ones I'm isolating and which ones I'm not before I do anything. I have no idea how reversible this is, so I don't want to make any mistakes."

"An hour, Doc. I've been keeping an eye on my watch. I sent Lorne in the hall to keep guard. I didn't want anyone walking in."

Carson hadn't even realized the other man had left. "I'm sorry, but it will take as long as it takes. I'd rather be overly cautious than rush into things. But I'm almost done. There are only a few memories left, then I'll start sorting them."

"Fine. If you need me I'll be over there," he said, gesturing to a chair that had been pushing into the corner, out of the way. "And I have to tell you, this is an…interesting experience."

Carson looked at the Colonel, then at the various memories Rodney had of him, all floating around. It was fairly obvious how loyal Rodney was, how much he trusted Sheppard—and himself for that matter, but he would deal with that when he had time to let go—and yet most of what they were seeing was carefully hidden. It was obvious the Rodney McKay they thought they knew was just the way he kept the world at arm's length.

"What are you going to do about it?" He went back to work, keeping part of his mind trained on the Colonel while the rest re-focused on Rodney.

"I'm not sure," he said thoughtfully. "It's weird that he considers us closer than his actual family."

"Rodney hasn't talked much about his past, but the few hints I got led me to believe his was not the happiest of childhoods. I knew he was searching for a place where he belonged, but I had no idea he felt this strongly about it, or about us." Finishing up with the last memory, Carson sat back down at the terminal carefully re-reading what he was supposed to do one more time.

"So, what's next?" Sheppard asked after a minute.

"Now comes the hard part. I have to separate the memories, and isolate the ones that originally belonged to Durand, without touching or jostling any of his own. Moving one slightly might not have any effect, but I don't know enough about this machine to be sure of that, and I don't want to take any chances." There were places where the memories were piled several deep, with Durand's nestled between them.

"Take it one at a time, Doc. You'll be fine," Sheppard said, his voice confident.

"Mmmm." Carson was already involved, his mind wholly focused now.

He didn’t know long it took—he painstakingly went through every memory, sorting them, then went back over them a second time just to make sure, before he was finally ready to shut the machine down and see the results. It would take about a half-hour for Rodney to wake up, and probably another little bit after that to be coherent. Pushing the final few buttons, the memories disappeared and the lights came back up, leaving the place feeling very empty. Carson sat down, suddenly exhausted, not caring that it was the floor and not a chair he had found. He located Sheppard sitting in the same chair where he last remembered noticing him. “How long?”

"You really don't want to know," he said instead, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yes I do. We have a little bit before Rodney wakes up. How long did it take?"

Sheppard shrugged. "About three hours, give or take."

Carson lay down, the floor was hard and cold under him. "It did'na seem that long."

"Do you need anything? Water? PowerBar? A bed? I sent Lorne for the first two."

"I'll be fine." He knew the reaction was just his muscles protesting to being released after hours of being tense with no relief. He would be sore tomorrow, but if Rodney was okay, it was worth it. "Go check on him. He won't be stirring yet, and don't pull anything off him, but make sure he's still breathing, still alive. I'll be there in a moment."

Sheppard shuffled off toward Rodney, leaning over him. "Breathing. Check. He's warm too, so I’m thinking the old ticker's still going."

Carson pushed himself back up off the floor, ignoring the protests his body sent out. He made his way to Rodney, automatically finding his wrist and counting his heartbeats. "At least we know I did'na kill him. That's reassuring."

"And we'll know about his genius brain when he wakes up."

Nodding, Carson let go of Rodney's wrist. "Aye, now we just get to wait. It shouldn't be too much longer. I don't know how coherent he'll be right at first, but according to the notes, most patients were fully aware in about ten minutes, some more, some less."

"So, what kind of patient do you think McKay will be?" Sheppard asked, his mouth twitching in a smile.

"Other than stubborn, demanding, and difficult? I'm going for the aware as fast as possible option. That brain of his can't stay still long."

Sheppard chuckled. "No kidding. I swear I have whiplash from what I saw. I can't imagine living it with every second of the day."

Carson shook his head, fighting back the emotions Rodney's memories had stirred in him. Not the time yet. Instead, he gave a small laugh. "Aye, now at least we know when he's talking so fast, it really is because his mouth can't keep up."

"I think I knew that already, but actually seeing it…" Sheppard's voice trailed off. "And I sent Lorne out because I didn't think he should be here. He's a good officer, but he doesn't know McKay like we do."

"He's a good man," Carson said after a pause. "I was a bit surprised to find that there are now two soldiers I would trust to work under. But I agree, I think Rodney would want as few people as possible digging through his head, getting under his masks."

"Need to leave some of the mystery, eh?"

"He would never forgive us if word got out that he actually cares about his staff and takes pleasure in their successes. The only thing keeping them going most of the time is their terror of being belittled." Carson felt a grin curl his lips.

"No. We'd be toast," Sheppard agreed. "But why do I feel like I need to share that tidbit with Zelenka?"

Carson shook his head. "Rodney will tell him in good time, if Radek doesn't know already. He sees a lot more than Rodney realizes, and I think it’s out respect that he doesn't spill the beans."

Sheppard fell into the silence, simply waiting beside Carson, the minutes passing. He shifted on his feet a few moments later. "I thought you said ten minutes."

"I said he would wake up in about thirty minutes. Then it will take another ten, give or take, to be fully aware. That's what the notes said at least. How long has it been?"

Sheppard checked his watch. "About fifteen."

Carson walked back over to the chair at the terminal, absently checking to make sure all the settings and readings were still okay. No problems being reported, that was a relief. He sat down, watching John hovering over Rodney. "When did you say the Major would be back? I'm suddenly ravenous. That sandwich was a long time ago."

"He's outside," he said, moving toward the door. "Be right back."

"Oh." Carson watched him, noting the tension in his body. "Colonel, how much sleep did you get last night? I thought I told you to go lay down."

"I slept," he said, pausing a few feet from the door.

"That's not what I asked."

He shrugged. "A few hours. About the same as you if what Lorne told me was true."

"You know you're my patient too, as much as Rodney is. What good does it do me to fix him only to have you collapse afterwards?"

"I'm fine," he said, his voice quiet. "Just worried. I'll sleep better knowing he's in his right mind."

Carson held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. "Okay. Just make sure you get a good long rest when this is over."

"Trust me. I’m looking forward to the time when my bed and I can get re-acquainted. You still want the Bar?"

Laughing, Carson nodded. "Please, and the water too, if I can. There's still a lot of work to do, once Rodney wakes up."

"More work?" Sheppard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hold that thought. Let me grab the provisions."

Carson waited until Sheppard had returned, forcing himself not to inhale the PowerBar, but instead to chew slowly. "The hard part is done, yes. But no matter what he wakes up like, I'll want to keep him under medical supervision for the next twenty-four hours. He'll fight me on it, knowing him. I need the energy to carry my end of the argument." He held up the bar and grinned.

"You have the needles. Of course you'll win."

"Aye, but the trick is to get him to the infirmary where I can stick those needles in him. It doesn't do me much good to threaten when I can't do anything about it here. The man is a little too good at hiding from me sometimes."

"You just have to know where to look, Carson, then it's not so hard." Sheppard took a pull from his water bottle. "And besides, Zelenka is a good person to have on your side."

Chuckling Carson accepted a new bottle the Colonel held out to him. "The problem is that when he hides from you, he really isn't hiding per se. He really doesn't want to see me. I have the needles, remember. It is my lot in life to be the most hated man in Atlantis I'm afraid. No one else likes the needles either."

"Trust me, he knows how to hide from me when it comes to our training sessions. You'd be surprised how much time and energy he puts into avoiding them."

"You may just be right at that." Carson grinned, letting his thoughts drift for a moment. "Not to be random, but I have a question for you. Just how long will Rodney and I be enjoying yours and Major Lorne's company? Not that I don't like him or anything, I'm just curious at this point."

Sheppard shrugged. "Depends on how McKay is. Maybe just tonight. Getting sick of us? Admit it, we've been good to have along."

"I just know you both have better things to do. I've run that poor man ragged over the last few days I'd imagine. And quite frankly, I'd like to be able to sleep in my boxers again. It's a sight more comfortable than sleeping fully dressed."

"Shy, Doc? Didn't take you for a shy boy."

Carson gave him a wry grin. "I would never inflict my mostly-naked body on anyone Colonel, especially not an unsuspecting Marine. The poor boy would be scarred for life."

"We all know about you Scots and those kilts," Sheppard said, teasing.

Carson huffed, feeling his ears get hot. "That's different. I only wear a kilt when everyone else around me is going to bloody well be wearing one too."

Sheppard's eyes laughed at him, but he didn't comment, instead taking another sip from his water bottle, the silence stretching out between them as they waited.

Carson was content to sit in silence, until he heard stirring from the other side of the room. He was on his feet and by Rodney's side almost before he had registered it. He saw the slits of blue as Rodney's eyes opened, and he prayed silently to any Gods listening that everything would be back to normal.

"Carson?"

"Aye, I'm here. How are you feeling?" Now that he was waking up, Carson felt okay to start pulling the wires off, quickly stripping them away from his friend's body.

"Did it work?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"You tell me. It did what I think it was supposed to do, but I don't know how well it worked yet."

"Oh."

Carson absently rubbed Rodney's wrists, an old habit of trying to get circulation going, to wake the brain up. "What do you remember?"

"Pieces…" he started. "Not sure yet what's what. But my head really hurts."

"That doesn't surprise me. I was in poking around your memories for several hours. Once you feel up to it, I'll have John and Major Lorne help you back to the infirmary. We can run a few tests and get you something for the headache."

"Okay," he said, his eyes drifting shut. "Just keep the noise down. Even your breathing is loud."

"I'll do my best." He kept his tone low and soothing. "Colonel, I don't suppose you thought to have the Major bring a wheelchair with him when you sent him for supplies? That would make things much easier."

"No, sorry," Sheppard said quietly. "It'll take a while to get one down here too."

"Aye. Do you think between us we can get him up there? Personally, I'd rather do it now so I can use instruments and I know and trust to look him over, in case any problems crop up."

"Three of us verses one headache-ridden scientist. Sure," Sheppard said. "Lorne and I can carry him, no problem."

"All right. If that's the case, then once you get moving, I'll go ahead and get ready for him. The corner where I had him last night will be fine."

"Sounds good, Doc. We'll bring him."

He nodded, then turned back to his patient. "Rodney, Colonel Sheppard and Major Lorne are going to help you to the infirmary. Can you sit up for me?"

"Leave me alone," he grumbled, flinging am arm over his eyes.

"See, I told you, a bloody argument." Carson muttered to Sheppard under his breath. "We need to get you to the infirmary. I know it hurts, but the sooner you get there, the sooner I can give you something to help."

"Give me something now. Then we'll talk."

"I don't have anything here to give you. Come on, lad, look sharp." Carson got a hand under one shoulder and motioned for the Colonel to do the same on the other side. Ignoring the protests, they got him sitting.

"Oh, God," he said, clenching his eyes tight.

"I know, it hurts. But believe me this is the best way. Let’s get you swung around and on your feet. We'll support you, so don't worry about that."

"Just…" he said, his hand digging into Carson's arm. "Give me a minute, will you? Are you sure my brains aren't leaking out of my ears?"

Carson used his free hand to pat Rodney on the arm. "I'm sure. You're still breathing, still have a pulse, and the fact that you are as bad a patient as usual brings a smile to my face, since that's a pretty good sign that you're still all there. You just have a headache, and most probably will be a bit weak for a while. I have a nice quiet, dark bed with good drugs waiting for you."

"Very reassuring," he groaned, squinting up at Carson. "If the infirmary is where is good drugs are, that's where I want to be. Let's get this show on the road."

Chuckling, Carson helped him get vertical, if unsteady. Major Lorne appeared as soon as they were near the door, taking his place by Rodney's side. "All right, I'm going to go make sure we're ready for you, Rodney. These two will get you safely up to the infirmary. As you move, I'd guess that you'll start to feel a bit stronger, but let them help you and don't overdo it, all right?"

"Fine," he hissed, eyes closed. "Good drugs. Promise me."

"As soon as I get some blood, I'm going to knock you out again. Sweet oblivion for one more night, and a chance to let your brain heal a bit. Keep telling yourself that."

"Good, good," he said. Opening an eye a minute later he regarded Carson carefully. "You're still here?"

Carson couldn't help the blinding smile he gave the man. "Just enjoying seeing you still in your right mind. I'm going now." He reached out to squeeze Rodney's arm one more time, gave the soldiers a nod, and then took off at a fast clip for the infirmary. He needed to make sure the lights were dimmed and the privacy curtains pulled, as well as getting everything he would need close at hand. Hurrying his steps, he let his mind follow the well-worn paths of planning patient care.

***

With his arms draped over Sheppard and Lorne, they slowly made their way back into the main part of the city. If it weren't for the support from the two soldiers McKay would have been a pile on the floor, curled up in some corner where he'd managed to drag himself.

"You're awfully quiet, McKay," Sheppard grunted, maneuvering them around a corner. "Usually the complaints have started by now. How are you feeling?"

"It's hard to describe the actual agony I'm experiencing, Colonel, but the sooner I can get my hands on the good drugs the better."

The hand supporting him tightened briefly. "I can't imagine. The quieter you get, the worse the pain is generally, so you have me a bit worried. We're almost to the transporter though, then a quick walk to the infirmary."

He snorted and groaned. "Quick? This is not exactly quick," he grumbled. Pausing, he opened his eyes a slit trying to judge where he was, but the visual images only increased the pain ten-fold, making his stomach lurch, and he closed them quickly. "How long did it take? An hour or so?"

"Yeah, about, but we didn't want to jostle you too much. Just focus on staying conscious and let Lorne and I do the walking. Feel free to rant at Lorne if yelling at someone would make you feel better."

"Ranting would hurt, Colonel. And I was talking about the procedure. How long? Should have been about an hour from the notes I remember."

"Right," John sighed. "Beckett spent about an hour cataloging all your memories, identifying which ones were yours and which were Durand's. Then it took about three hours to separate them."

"What!" he said, making himself cringe at his own volume. "It shouldn't have taken that long."

"Beckett said he'd rather be overcautious and take the time to make sure he wasn't making any mistakes. I agree with him. If taking the extra time means you come out good as new, I count it a victory."

"And if the extended stay in the Ancient mess-with-your-mind device that shouldn't be run more than an hour at a time managed to do something else, what then?"

"Then Beckett will find a way to fix that too. Stop worrying."

"I'm allowed to worry," he grumbled. "It's my brain we're talking about here."

"I promise, we took good care of it while you were out. Speaking of which, once you're feeling better, you and I need to have a little chat about what's going on in that head of yours."

"What!" he replied, cringing again, this time though he tried to stop their forward motion, but only managed to make the three of them stumble.

"Don't try to stop, just focus on staying upright and conscious." Sheppard righted himself, and then they all started moving forward again. "I just think you and I need to have a chat. And maybe Beckett since he was there, too."

"What the hell went on in there?" he said, part of him beginning to panic a little, his eyes squinting through some of the pain to get his bearings.

"Breathe, McKay. And we can talk about this after you're feeling better." They were nearing the transporter, and he felt Sheppard shift a bit to reach for the control panel.

"I'm breathing. I just don't like the thought that my brain seems to have served as Grand Central Station for the lot of you. There's private stuff in there."

"It was only Beckett and I. Major Lorne graciously volunteered to stand guard at the door to make sure no one else came looking for us and wandered in."

Lorne let out a snort of muffled amusement.

"That's still two too many!"

"What did you expect? Beckett had to go through your mind to sort everything out, and I sure as hell wasn't leaving him there alone. We didn't have much choice in the matter."

Rodney hissed, slumping a little. "God, my head hurts. Why does it hurt this much?"

The pressure under his arms increased as both men compensated for the change of position. "I'm not a doctor, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's because you just had someone spend several hours messing with your mind. Some of Durand's were sandwiched pretty tightly in between yours, so Beckett had to be very careful not to catch stray pieces."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," he said, his voice quieter. He felt them move him forward into the transporter.

"He was careful, McKay. He did his best to not even jostle any of yours for fear that would harm you somehow." Sheppard pushed a button on the transporter, the doors opening up a moment later on the familiar hall of the infirmary corridor.

The bright lights, the movement, and the pain in his head was slowly becoming too much. "Stop, stop stop. I feel like I’m gonna be sick."

"Just a little farther. Come on, I know you can make it. Then you'll be in a nice quiet bed with the good drugs. You can do this."

He tried to pull his hands free from the soldier's grip, but they held on tight. "I'm not as stoic as you are, Sheppard. And I'm not kidding," he said, hissing, trying to curl up a little.

He was suddenly pulled to one of the plants lining the hallway and lowered to the floor. "It isn't being stoic, nor is it showing weakness, Rodney. I just want to get you to Beckett as quick as we can. Just let us know when you're ready to move again." Sheppard left one hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

After a minute or two of heaving—and after he swore his boots were going to appear—he spat for a final time. Groaning, he slumped sideways, Sheppard's hands on his shoulders the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground in an ungainly heap.

The Colonel rubbed his shoulders, his voice a low, soothing tone. "It's all right, McKay. This is almost over. Lorne went and grabbed a wheel chair from the infirmary while you were sick. As soon as you're ready, we'll get you in that and get you to the good drugs."

McKay nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Why did they have to keep everything so brightly lit?

"Think nice, dark, quiet room. Just keep thinking of that okay?" He felt the two men lift him gently and get him into the wheelchair.

Curled slightly in the chair, they pushed him into the infirmary, parking him a minute later and putting the brake on. He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands, as if he could rub the pain away. A few moments later he heard Carson's brogue—his voice quiet—as he spoke with Sheppard.

“What happened? He looks worse than when I left.” Carson sounded worried.

“He said he was in pain, I think his head is killing him. He got pretty sick in your plant outside, and I don’t think he’s opened his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.” Sheppard's voice was tight with worry.

“So nauseous, headache, possibly light-sensitive? We’ll do some blood work and let him rest. Tomorrow I’ll run an MRI and compare it against his baseline. We’ll have to see how he feels and go from there.”

Carson was suddenly next to him, his hands resting lightly over Rodney’s on his head. “Rodney, lad, Can you get up and into bed, or do you need some help? Once we get you up, I want to draw some blood and get another IV started—you haven’t eaten all day. Once we get that done, I’ll give you the sedative. Sound good?”

"Food is not on the agenda anytime soon," he said, groaning as hands helped him upright. "Just make the headache go away."

"Aye, I know, that's why I'm going to give you another IV. I wouldn't try to make you eat anything right now. Migraines tend to have nausea as one of the side effects, and you're showing all the symptoms of suffering from one now. I promise, just a little longer, and then you don't have to think for a while." Carson and someone else were helping him out of the chair, moving him over to the bed.

"I've had plenty of migraines. This is worse than any of them," he said, letting them lead him, stumbling slightly. "What the hell did you do?" he hissed.

Carson caught him before he could fall far, and got him up into the bed. "There are degrees of migraines, lad. Yours tend to be on the milder side of the equation, but when you're prone to them, a stronger version is always a possibility. My guess is that's what happened. Moving your memories and using that device triggered a bad one. A long sleep, combined with some anti-migraine medication I'll give you through the IV, and you should wake up feeling much better." Carson had one sleeve rolled up and was drawing blood quickly, not giving Rodney time to object.

"Just make it go away. I don't care if you cut it out, cut it off, just make it go away," he said as hands pressed him back against the half-raised bed.

"I don't think we'll need to get that extreme." Carson's voice had the same low, soothing tone John had used. Rodney felt someone else, probably a nurse, on his other side, inserting an IV. "All right, I'm going to give you the sedative now. I'll be here when you wake up, we can talk then."

"As long as my cognitive functions are working I'll keep you to it. I have to find out what the hell you ended up doing to my brain. Nothing should hurt like this."

"I already have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow morning. That will give us a starting point. Hopefully the pain will be gone by then, so we can just run a few tests to be certain all of Durand's memories are gone." There was a prick in his elbow. "Now go to sleep. Stop thinking."

"As if," he snorted, rolling his head to the side, opening his eyes slightly. "Sorry 'bout this."

Carson gave him a small smile. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't ask for any of this, and you're actually handling it better than anyone should be expected to. Don't worry."

"I always worry. When don't I worry?"

"I know, but right now, go to sleep and let me do the worrying for a while."

"You worry too much as it is," he said, already starting to drift off a little, his eyelids getting heavier.

"That's my job. I do the worrying so you can do the work. Stop fighting the drugs, Rodney. Let them do their job, too."

"And this is not your fault," he said, forcing his eyes open even though they started watering from the light.

"We can argue later when you're feeling better." Carson pressed two fingers to each side of Rodney's head, rubbing gently. "Go to sleep."

"I’m not five," he mumbled, his eyes drooping.

"Could have fooled me," Carson laughed quietly.

"Hey!" he said, half-heartedly, his eyes widening for a moment in protest. "Sheppard's the kid in this equation."

"Sheppard isn't the one fighting the medication he spent the last hour begging for, now is he? We can wax eloquent on his many faults when you wake up and feel better."

"He has many, too." He paused, feeling his body sink a little further into the pillows and mattress. "Some good qualities, too. Not….sure we should…tell him."

Carson laughed again. "I won't tell him if you won't."

"Might….be….too late," he said, humming slightly.

Still chuckling, Carson continued to rub Rodney's temples. "You might be right."

He wanted to reply, but the darkness was crashing down on him again, cradling him in its warm embrace. And he slept.

***

Carson smiled as he released Rodney, sleep finally claiming him. He looked up to catch the very worried John Sheppard's eye. "Migraine aside, that was very encouraging. He knows who we are, his brain was working as fast as could be expected with a headache, and he was even his old snarky self."

"He didn't sound good and he did throw up in the plant in the hallway."

"True, but the nausea, light sensitivity, even motion sensitivity are all migraine symptoms. He's prone to them, and had I thought about it, I would have brought medication down with me. Messing around in someone's head would be a fair bet as a trigger."

Sheppard chuckled humorlessly, tightly. "He got a little…touchy on the way here."

"Normal for Rodney touchy, or out of character touchy?"

He shrugged. "Little of both."

"Then let's just wait and see how he is tomorrow. Some of what you classify as out of character might just be the results of the migraine." Carson put one hand on Sheppard's arm. "Go get some sleep, and tomorrow we'll figure the rest out."

"Sleep?" He huffed, shaking off the hand. "You must be kidding. This is sure to give me nightmares."

Carson sighed. "Colonel, don't make me force you to sleep. If you think you need it, I can give you a light sedative, but you're on the verge of crashing. Rodney will sleep for another ten hours, and there isn't anything you can do in the duration. Use the time to catch up a bit."

"It's not nearly time for bed," he protested, rubbing a hand over his face. "And I have to report in to Elizabeth. As it is, she's been…impatient. It's not like she's going to take much more of my stalling."

He had forgotten about that. "All right, we'll both go brief her. I'm sure she'll have questions for me too. Then I'm taking a shower and going to bed, and I strongly recommending you do the same."

"Sounds like a plan. Come on. Mom's waiting."

Carson fell into step beside the Colonel, making their way down the hall. "I have'na talked to Elizabeth since that, ah, chat you overheard. How has she been?"

He shrugged. "Worried. She wants answers and isn't exactly happy that things aren't going smoothly. I think she just wants things to get back to normal."

"I can't say that I blame her. Normal, at least for the Pegasus galaxy, would be a nice change of pace for a few days." He was the first in the transporter, and hid a tired grin as both Sheppard and Lorne followed him in. Apparently he was still under guard.

"She did want a report from all of us," he commented, reaching over to hit the transporter location closest to the control tower.

"Aye, lets get this over with. My bed is calling my name, Colonel, and its voice is getting sweeter by the minute." Carson headed down the hall as soon as the doors opened again, straightening up out of the slouch he had fallen into. Time to do the other half of his job.

***

Rodney was getting used to waking up groggy, but that didn't mean he liked it. The headache was still there, hovering around his temples and stretching back across his skull, but at least he didn't want to tear his head off.

He rolled his head to the side, keeping his eyes closed as he slowly adjusted to the thought of waking up fully. He vaguely remembered Carson mentioning something about tests and talking and more tests. Maybe that had just been a strange disjointed memory.

As he'd neared consciousness, he'd found himself dreaming of his parents and his sister, of his college days, even some when he was younger—something he hadn't done in years and still had no desire to think about, let alone dream of past uncomfortable situations.

He sighed, snaking a hand up to rub his face as he rolled onto his side, the limb dropping to lie in front of him, hand on the pillow.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?" Sheppard's voice came from somewhere off to his right.

"Mmm?" he said, rolling back onto his back, an eyelid slowly rising.

The Colonel was lounging in a chair next to the bed. "I said 'how are you feeling.' You looked like hell yesterday."

"Great bedside manner there, Sheppard," he whispered, frowning at the man. He tried to clear his throat.

Sheppard got up, grapping a cup of water as he did. He brought it over and angled the straw so Rodney could reach it. "Yeah, that's one of the reasons I never went into medicine. Count yourself lucky."

"Thanks," he finally said when he took a few mouthfuls, continuing, his voice still weaker than normal. "And I'm grateful for small favors. Knowing you with your shoot-first, ask questions later mentality, I'm sure you'd just amputate everything to get rid of the problem."

Sheppard grinned at him. "Nah, it's hard to shoot something if you don't have a hand. I'd be the supervisor, yelling at the underlings to fix the patient or else."

"Like that would make things peaceful and quiet," he huffed, closing his eyes for a minute. "Where's Beckett?"

"In his office doing some paperwork. He said he'd be by to check on you soon, but I can call him now if you need him."

"Headache's still hanging around," he said, peering at Sheppard, noting his tense face.

Sheppard nodded, tapping his radio. "Beckett, Rodney's awake and needs you. Right. I'll ask him. Sheppard out." He focused back on Rodney. "He's coming, and bringing something for the headache. He said to see if you remember what he was doing last night, rubbing your temples. That might help with the pain I guess."

He frowned. "Of course I remember and I'm not a five-year-old who needs to have his head rubbed."

The Colonel shrugged. "I'm only repeating what he said."

"And I told him that last night…yesterday….whenever it was. And how long was I out?"

"About ten hours again. I'll give him that, Beckett's pretty accurate with his timing on the drugs." Sheppard looked up to see the doctor coming through the curtain.

“Talking about me again eh? Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Carson turned to Rodney, picking up his wrist, a thumb on his pressure point. “And how are you feeling today?”

"Headache. Little blurry, otherwise okay, I think," he answered, watching Beckett.

"All right, that is'na too bad." His wrist was dropped back to the bed as Carson reached in a pocket and pulled out a white bottle. "This is ibuprofen, albeit a bit higher dose than what you would find in over-the-counter medications. Take two now, and then another one every four hours until there's no pain or for two days, whichever comes first."

"I know the routine," he grumbled, his hands fumbling with the bottle Carson had given him.

"Aye, but it never hurts to remind you. Now, how much do you remember of what happened?"

"About what, specifically? I need a timeframe, a point of reference." He snapped, fighting with the bottle top.

Carson rolled his eyes, taking the bottle out of his hands, deftly twisting the cap off, and handing it back. "Let's start with yesterday. How much do you remember from the time you woke up until last night when you came back here?"

He rolled his eyes, dumping two pills into his hand. "I woke up. We talked. We looked at the database on the laptops. We went down to the labs. You messed with my head and I got back here after upchucking in the plant outside. That cover it?"

"How about a bit more detail. That covers the generalities, yes, but I'm trying to determine whether or not we got all of Durand's memories and left yours intact. Work with me here."

"What do you want from me?" Rodney asked, letting the exasperation he was feeling show in his voice. "I've been up for all of ten minutes and the two of you are harassing me."

Carson sat down in a nearby chair, his gaze never leaving Rodney. "All right, fine, we can just chat then. How are you feeling other than the headache? Hungry?"

He shrugged. "I guess. Stomach's still a little tender."

"Want to try oatmeal? Most of your nutrients have been via IV for the last few days. If you think you can hold something solid down, I'd be happy to get you a bowl."

"Sure," he said shrugging. Fingers playing with the pill bottle, the two he'd poured out, still in his hand.

"Stop playing with those and take them. Why do you insist on being in pain when you don't have to?" Carson stood up and went to the curtain, talking in low tones to someone, then came back. "Anne will see to the oatmeal."

“Um, question here,” Sheppard cut in to the conversation. “Why are we dancing around this? Rodney, you were full of questions yesterday about what the machine did and how it worked, and now you’re acting like you don’t even care.”

Rodney glanced up, trying to meet the Colonel's eyes, but not able. "Maybe because I don't remember a whole lot about the entire experience."

"Well, yeah, you were out for most of it, but I thought you of all people would be grilling Beckett on what happened, especially since it was your brain he was messing with."

He shrugged, tossing the two pills in how mouth and grabbing the water off the bedside table. A few swallows later and he settled it back in place. "So instead of me asking the fifteen thousand questions you know I have, why don't you just tell me what you did?"

Sheppard waved at hand a Carson, who sighed and settled back down into the chair. “When we activated the system, it filled the room with your memories and thoughts. It was almost as if we could touch them. I went through them and identified which ones were yours and which weren’t, using the controls to block your ability to access any of Durand’s. Most of his were closely intertwined with yours, which is why you were slipping so easily in and out of them, it was almost as if you had experienced what he had. It was quite skillful the way they were inserted into your mind actually.”

"Filled the room?" Rodney knew his eyes were wide as he stared at his friend, a feeling of dread slowly overtaking him as he focused on what Carson had told him. Nonononono. That wasn't possible. That couldn't happen. How would the Ancients create something so…revealing? His stomach did a little flip, as his eyes whipped back and forth between the two men, feeling strangely naked when though he was fully-clothed—in scrubs he had no memory of obtaining. His voice was strangled. "You were both there?"

"Aye. The Colonel had Major Lorne leave, and stand guard to make sure no one else came in accidentally. We knew you wouldn't want that much of yourself revealed to anyone who passed by. Rodney, you know neither of us would ever reveal anything we saw there, right?"

"But filled the room!"

"Quite frankly, I was a bit astonished myself. I had no idea how much you carry around with you. More than a normal person at any rate. It was easy to see why you’re as intelligent as you are. Your mind works differently than most of ours, probably closer to how the Ancients thought actually. And that, more than anything, is more than likely why these extra memories didn't drive you insane. You're already used to handling and filtering out a massive amount of information at once."

Rodney felt his chest tightening a little, as he considered just how much they might have seen, might know now—things he never wanted anyone to see, to know, to even imagine. Did the Ancients have any thoughts about privacy, about not wanting to share everything?

Carson was there again, his hand resting on Rodney's arm. "I never would have wanted to invade your privacy like that, and I'm sorry I had to. If it helps at all, the Colonel and I were both—overwhelmed—by your regard for us, and we both feel the same way about you."

"You weren't supposed to know," he whispered, closing his eyes trying to block out the emotions rising to the surface. He was supposed to keep those closed off. If people didn't know, it wouldn't hurt when they betrayed him, hated him.

Another hand came to rest on his other arm. "Rodney, we aren't going to hurt you, you know. We just spent the better part of a week fighting to save you, to keep you. Believe it or not —and thanks to the Ancients I already know it's 'not', but listen anyway—you are respected and admired here. We're a family of sorts now, especially those of us still here from the initial expedition team. A real family, not the fucked up kind both of us came from." Sheppard's voice wavered a bit as he stopped talking.

"Family is never synonymous with the McKay name—never," he whispered, taking a breath. Everything was too raw, too close to the surface. "I need…give me some time. This is a little much right now."

"It isn't really synonymous with the Sheppard name either. But they say friends are the family you choose, right? Well, I choose Atlantis and everyone here, including you." Sheppard squeezed his arm. His hand disappeared, and his footsteps disappeared around a corner somewhere.

“Rodney… I’m sorry. I wish I could just forget it all, but…” Carson hadn’t let go of his arm yet.

"Carson," he turned to him, eyes wide and pleading. "I can't do this now. Do your tests, just let me…sort through the mess that's up here right now," he said pointing to his head. "Things I'd long forgotten about are back and I'm finding it hard to remember what I had for dinner last week."

Carson swallowed, then let go. "I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself, then I'll be back to take you to the MRI. The water's there if you need it." He pulled back the curtain to leave.

Rodney nodded, not trusting his voice, his hands still clutching the bottle of pills and the edge of the blanket as if it were the only lifeline to this time and space he had. Long erected walls were gone, he realized, bulldozed in an attempt to get to the cancer spreading through his mind.

It had to be done. He knew that. But it didn't make it any easier right now as he dealt with the fall-out.

***

Carson liked the nights on Atlantis. The cool breeze, carrying with it a hint of salt. He liked this balcony. It was out of the way, and he often came here when he just needed to let his brain rest a little. The moonlight reflecting off the ocean made it seem almost bright out, contrasting with the shadows that filled the city.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. It had been a long day. Rodney’s tests had all come up normal, and when they had tried triggering Durand’s memories, they hadn’t gotten so much as a glimmer. For better or worse, Rodney was back to where he had started. Actually, in Carson’s opinion it was better, since knowledge is more appreciated and used more responsibly if it's earned.

The sound of another person stepping out on the balcony made him jump a bit, but he didn’t turn around. If whoever it was wanted to talk, they would let him know.

"Sorry," a quiet voice said, the shuffling sound of retreating feet following quickly after the hushed apology.

"You aren't intruding. I don't mind the company if you want to stay. This is a nice spot."

The person paused. "Was looking for an unoccupied balcony. I'll find another. Wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone."

Carson sighed. So much for just relaxing. "Sometimes thinking with company is more productive than brooding alone. And it isn't an inconvenience. I'm always here to help."

"Brooding is much more my style."

He turned around, facing the door. The other person was in shadows, but Carson knew who it was. "Rodney, I don't mind the company, and I was starting to get a bit broody myself. We can keep each other from going down that path, how's that sound?"

McKay sighed, stepping a few feet into the light. "I figured I'd be last person you'd want to see after everything."

"Why would you think that? I'd understand if it was the other way around, actually." Carson looked at him, shifting so there was room for two to lean on the railing. "If that's why you wanted to leave, you still can. It won't hurt my feelings."

"No," he said finally, after a moment of silence. "The walls in my quarters were getting boring. Wanted a change of scenery."

"Aye, for such an amazing race, you'd think the Ancients would have put up some wallpaper or something. The unrelieved white gets a mite bit irritating sometimes." He turned back around, looking out over the ocean. "How are you, Rodney, really? I want to know as your friend, not your doctor."

He glanced at Carson for a moment, leaning more heavily against the rail. "I'm not sure. Okay, I think. I feel like I'm missing a limb at times though."

"I can't even imagine. Although it's hard to believe you're actually missing a few memories, with all the others in there. What was it like? I know you don't have the memories themselves, but I didn't take any of your impressions when you were yourself."

"It's like I had access to a wealth of information. It was all right there," he said, trailing off. "If I only had some more time…"

Carson listened to the waves for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Durand is still there you know. Eventually he'll finish whatever it is he's doing, and then we'll have access to at least some of the information, without having to risk you to get it."

"Maybe."

He let the silence stretch for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts. "Have you and the Colonel talked again at all? He played it cool, but he was pretty upset this morning. I think knowing you hadn't had a choice about having your emotions brought to the surface forced him to show a little more than he was comfortable with too."

"No," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon. "I've been…avoiding most everyone."

"Any reason why? You disappeared right after I cleared you, so I never got the chance to finish our conversation. Why are you so worried?"

Rodney shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"I don't mean about the whole situation. Why were so afraid when you found out what that thingy showed Sheppard and I? We're friends Rodney, and while I admit it would be a little bizarre to know you had seen every memory I have, I wouldn't avoid you afterwards."

"I'm arrogant, petty, and bad with people. That ring any bells?"

"Aye, but those of us who know you already knew that was just the face you show to the world. You've been brave, selfless, and surprisingly astute at times. Did you really think we didn't already know?"

Rodney shot him a quick look before turning back to the ocean. "I haven't talked to my sister in four years, Carson, and now you're trying to get me to talk about this whole sharing experience we had. You want to talk about unsettling? That's it."

"We don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to understand that while there were things I learned about you, for the most part it wasn't anything I did'na already know."

Rodney huffed. "You say that now."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Intentionally? No."

"So why do you think I'd lie about this? And what do you mean intentionally?"

"I know you lie to make me feel better. You're a doctor. That's what doctors do."

Carson clenched his hands on the railing. He wasn't sure why that stuck a note in him, but it did. "Rodney, I would never, ever lie to you. I might conceal things, or only give you part of the truth if I don't think you can handle the whole thing, but I would never outright lie. Never."

Rodney looked at him, but didn't comment, his eyes drifting down to the railing Carson was gripping.

Beckett forced himself to relax. He watched the waves, not sure what else he could say. Rodney always went his own way, believed what he wanted to. It was nearly impossible to convince him of something once he had made his mind up. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"For what? Nothing was your fault."

"Yes, it was. None of this would have even happened if I hadn't been so insistent on the Daedalus. Then it was my arguments that convinced Sheppard to allow us to move Durand like we did. I know I couldn't have predicted what happened, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Rodney turned to him, his voice and eyes intense. "And I was the one who refused to listen to medical advice. I chose my own path, Carson. I'm the one who has to live with it."

"You have the right to refuse care, even if I don't agree with you. I might argue with you about it, but I crossed a line I shouldn't have. Saying I did it 'for your own good' isn't an excuse." He sighed, letting himself be lulled a bit by the repetitive sound of the waves crashing against the pier, faint in the distance. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry about. Your friends, and there are more than you think, feel the same way about you as they did before all this started."

"Sometimes I think that's a harder thought to put my head around than anything else that's happened to me," Rodney said quietly, pushing himself away from the railing. "And don't beat yourself up about this. I didn't give you a choice."

Carson found himself smiling a bit over that. "Tell you what, I'll agree not to hold myself responsible if you'll agree not to brood over everything that happened."

"I don't brood."

Carson raised an eyebrow, letting the other man see his amusement. "Didn't you just say ten minutes ago that brooding is what you do?"

"Must be mistaking me for someone else."

"Oh, aye, because there are plenty of people lurking in the shadows on this particular balcony tonight." Carson laughed grabbing the other man's arm and starting to steer them both towards the mess hall. "I heard there is a hidden stash of chocolate chip cookies in the kitchens. Up for helping me find them? I think if anyone needs a homemade cookie with real chocolate, it's us."

"Real chocolate?" Rodney's eyes were wide. "Why didn't you mention them before?"

"I only found out a few days ago. I heard one of the kitchen staff wooing one of my nurses with the prospect. He said they have a small stash left, and keep a batch of cookies for special occasions. I'm feeling pretty special, how about you?"

"I think you should have mentioned them earlier. Might have made all the difference you know," he said, sulking.

"Well, we still have to find them. Quite a few people go looking for late-night snacks, so cookies would have to be well-hidden to avoid being devoured. Besides, you have a secret stash of chocolate and coffee hidden somewhere I don't know about, don't you?"

Rodney's eyes widened. "I do not."

"You really expect me to believe that? Your secret stashes are legendary. I think last I heard there was reportedly mountains of chocolate and the bags of the best coffee money could buy."

"Of course I expect you to believe that," Rodney sniffed. "Do you think I'd be so miserable usually if I did have all that?"

Trying hard not to laugh and sound undignified, Carson opened the door to the mess and looked around. "Any ideas on where to start?"

"Try the most obvious place you can think of. No one ever looks there."

Carson opened the large fridge-like box that worked far better than any refrigerator he had ever owned. "Okay, that didn't work. I see no cookies."

"I said obvious, Carson," Rodney mumbled.

Grinning, Carson decided to play dumb. Rodney always seemed to feel better when he had someone to yell at for being a moron. It was stress relief. "Well it was bloody obvious to me. That's where I keep my cookies at home. That way the chocolate doesn't melt."

"Actually," he mumbled, obviously talking around something in his mouth, "the chocolate is supposed to melt."

Carson whirled around. "Rodney McKay! Don't you dare tell me you found them and didn't share!" He stalked over to where the other man was crouched.

He glanced up, a smile on his face as he held up the bag. "You didn't ask."

Carson felt his eyes go wide. He just stood there for a moment in shock before he grabbed the bag out of Rodney's hand. "Cheeky bugger. Didn't you ever learn the meaning of the word share?"

"I know what the dictionary says," he finally replied, his smile fading.

"It means you give the man with the needles cookies when he has a chocolate craving." Carson sat down next to him, handing the bag back over. He savored the cookie. Even with regular supply runs, it had been a while since he had had a cookie. He couldn't help the vaguely pornographic noises he knew he was making.

Rodney glanced over and hit his shoulder against Carson's. "You should probably stop that. People might talk."

"Oh my, God. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I sat and ate cookies? I lived on these in med school."

"That's unhealthy."

He laughed as he grabbed another cookie. "At the time I was convinced multi-vitamins would make up for it. But I barely had time to breathe much less stop for regular meals. And chocolate chip cookies are easy to grab on the go. I have to admit, even today there is almost nothing I won't do for a few of them. They are my greatest vice."

Rodney glanced at him, eyeing him strangely. "You'd do anything for a cookie?"

"It has to be chocolate chip, and the real kind, not the pretend stuff that shows up every now and then. And I did say almost anything, but yes." He blushed a little as he grabbed another one.

"Here," Rodney said, shoving the bag into his hands. "I don't want to know how you found out about these in the first place."

"Rodney! I really did just overhear a snippet of conversation. That particular soldier has been wooing Nancy for weeks now, and I wanted to make sure she was all right giving him his physical. It was a coincidence he was trying a food tactic when I poked my head in."

"Sure," he said, eyeing him carefully. "Why don't you enjoy those? I think it's time for bed."

Carson rolled his eyes, reluctantly putting the bag of cookies back in the pantry he assumed Rodney had gotten them out of. "Okay, what did I say this time?"

"You and your 'I'll do anything for a cookie' speech. As if you just overheard." Rodney rolled his eyes.

Carson went a bit red, but he did shake his head. "I said _almost_ anything. Liking cookies doesn't mean I'll suddenly start doing anything obscene. Have a little faith in me."

"I know all about you and your sheep-loving ways."

"What is it with you and sheep? You have an unhealthy fascination with them."

"You're the one with the sheep calendar with the centerfolds. I've seen it."

"My Mum gave it to me. Was I supposed to say no? Besides, I needed a calendar. I like to have some idea of what time of year it is back home. And it disturbs me that you've been looking through my sheep calendar. Now who has disturbing habits?"

"You're the one flashing it around. Not like I go looking for it."

"It's hanging above my desk in my office. And only someone who flipped through it would know there are centerfolds. I worry about you sometimes."

"You worry about me?" Rodney said, eyes wide. "You're the one with the sheep fetish, flashing it around to anyone who just happens to look in your direction.

"Having a calendar that happens to feature sheep does not make it a fetish. People have calendars with all kinds of fluffy animals on them all the time."

"And they also have some strange fixation with furry creatures which is just too strange to even consider." He shuddered.

Carson laughed, then pushed himself up, reaching out a hand to help Rodney up. "All right, if you're through belittling me, I don't know about you, but I think I can finally get some sleep."

Rodney groaned as Carson helped to lever him up on his feet, yanking down his shirt to its rightful place. "Sleep is overrated."

"Aye, you've probably gotten more than you're used to lately. Just don't stay up too late, and remember, no brooding." He smiled, resting one hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Rodney."

McKay looked at him strangely before nodding. "I think it's way past time for you to go to bed. I'll walk you as far as your quarters."

Carson nodded, dropping his hand and heading back towards his room. "I must admit, the thought of a nice hot shower and sleeping all alone in my room is about as close to heaven as I want to get right now."

McKay glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Lorne's not waiting up?"

"Har de har har. I'm afraid Major Lorne is'na my type."

"Oh, I forgot. Not furry enough." The hint of a smile hovered on his lips.

Carson debated growling or laughing, and finally settled on a chuckle. "I really do think you have a seriously repressed sheep obsession you're projecting onto me."

"And I think you protest far too much," he said, glancing over shyly.

Carson stopped at his door, and grinned. "If I did'na protest, I would get accused of agreeing too quickly. At least this way I go down fighting."

Rodney shrugged. "If that's what you want." He paused, pursing his lips for a moment before continuing. "Have a good night. You deserve the rest and…thanks."

"Try to get some sleep yourself. You know where to find me if you ever want to make another cookie run." He gave his friend another genuine smile, hoping Rodney knew how glad he was to have him back to normal. "Good night."

Rodney nodded and trotted off down the hall, heading in the direction they just came from.

Carson sighed, opening his door and taking a moment to enjoy having it to himself. He headed to the shower, knowing the hot water would relax him enough to get a decent amount of sleep. When he finally crawled into bed, he fell asleep hoping Rodney would seek out John, and the last loose end of this interesting week could finally be wrapped up.

***

Rodney left Carson, his mind tiredly spinning, but still spinning nonetheless. He knew it was late, but with all the sleep he'd been doing lately, he knew he'd just end up staring at the ceiling—just like this afternoon.

While things had settled down to a certain extent, he still felt naked, exposed, old memories still fresh—too fresh—in his mind. Throughout the day he'd found himself reliving experiences from his past, many of which he had no desire to remember.

Sighing, he let himself walk, allowing his mind to whirl and unwind at its own pace. Several corridors and a transporter trip later, he was back down in the East Pier, his feet taking him unerringly to the labs.

He paused at the door to the lab he only vaguely remembered, the source of his current state of confusion. A PowerBar wrapper littered the floor near the door and he bent down to pick it up, shuffling over to sit in the chair at the large console in the center of the room. Leaning forward, elbows in knees, he held the silver wrapper in his hands, his fingers playing with the material as he let his mind drift in the quiet.

"Okay, see, this is why I had you under guard. I turn my back for ten minutes and one of you ends up down here." Sheppard's voice had a note of exasperation in it.

"I'm not doing anything other than thinking," Rodney said, his voice holding a note of resignation. He refused to look up, his eyes focused entirely on the wrapper, watching as the light reflected and shined on the silver material as he moved it.

"Knowing you, you're probably thinking too much." The Colonel dropped into a chair next to him. "So what's on your mind?"

Rodney glanced over briefly. "I'm surprised you're not armed. I figured you'd have Ronon's gun with you. Just in case I gave you any trouble."

Sheppard shrugged. "I was just doing a last sweep of the area before turning it over to the next shift when I saw a dot." He held up the life signs detector. "Figured I'd come see what was up."

"You're doing a security sweep without your weapon? You sure you're feeling all right, Colonel?"

"What makes you think I don't have one on me somewhere? Just because I don't have the P-90 doesn't mean I'm not armed."

"Come on. I know you far too well. You sleep with your P-90. If you don't have it on a security sweep it's because you weren't doing one."

"I don't sleep with it. It pokes you in the side, and you spend half the night worrying about whether or not you're going to hit the safety when you turn over and accidentally shoot yourself."

Rodney scowled briefly at Sheppard before turning back to his wrapper.

Sheppard sighed. "All right, I was worried about you. I wasn't following you, but I happened to see you heading this direction and thought I'd make sure you were okay. That we were okay."

He glanced up sharply. "Why wouldn't we be? You obviously still have some trust issues, so that's nothing new. So it looks like things are back to normal, so you can go hop off to bed."

"I don't have trust issues, Rodney. I really was going off duty and headed to bed when you blew by me in the hall. You were so absorbed you didn't even see me there. Look, if this is about that Ancient machine thing, I'm not sorry I was there. I forget sometimes that you aren't a soldier, and to be honest, I ask too much of you most of the time. But you always come through. I don't think I ever bother to thank you, but I am glad you're on my team. I can't imagine doing this, fighting the Wraith, without you there to remind me why I fight."

Rodney huffed, shaking his head. "You're right I'm not a soldier, but most of the time everyone forgets that."

"And for what it’s worth, I'm sorry about that. But I think you surprised us all with how you've come through. You might not be fully-trained as a member of the military, but you are a soldier of sorts. And I'd rather have you beside me when things are going to hell than a Marine. I know I can count on you."

"Even though I usually can't hit the broad side of the barn?"

Sheppard gave him a wry smile. "I can't deny I'd like to see you get a bit better at that, but not because I want to put you out there to shoot things. I am painfully aware that I can't always be around to protect you, so I want to give you the skills to keep yourself alive until I can get there. But you're not on my team because of shooting abilities. You're on my team because you know how to think in a crisis and get the job done. You come up with solutions no one else would even dream of, and that's the kind of person we need in the field. Hell, you've saved my ass more than once because of that, and I can hit the broad side of a barn."

"Now, why I'd be shooting at a barn in the first place is a good question to ask."

"You know, I always wondered that myself. There could be cows in there."

Rodney shot him an odd look. "What is it with you and Carson and strange animals?"

"Cows are strange? They can be a little goofy, and sometimes creepy, but strange?"

Rodney turned, sitting up a little, scowling at the other man. "Let me re-phrase my question then: what’s with yours and Carson's obsessions with animals lately? If it's some kind of strange animal fetish, I don't want to know."

Sheppard looked confused. "I think I’m missing something here. You were the one who brought up barns and shooting at them. I was just pointing out that if you shoot at a barn, you could hit something inside it, like cows."

"Nevermind," he said, waving his hand absently, turning back to the wrapper. "That conversation once was more than my careful sensibilities can take."

"Okay," He drew the word out. After a moment, Rodney felt Sheppard's hand on his arm. "Wanna tell me what's really bothering you? I have a feeling it isn't cows."

"Do you know I was beat up on a regular basis when I was eight? Every day, like clockwork."

"Why? By who?"

"Brad Jameson. He hated me with a passion usually reserved for brussel sprouts and creamed spinach."

"Why did he hate you?"

Rodney shrugged. "I'm not really sure. He was twelve, I was eight. He was as dumb as a load of bricks, but that apparently didn't matter to his parents."

"That must have really sucked. Didn't your parents do anything?"

He laughed once, the sound bitter, harsh. "They were too busy yelling at each other."

The hand on his arm tightened briefly. "I'm sorry. I guess adults don't realize how screwed up they are sometimes. Or they're too busy being screwed up to take note of how it's affecting the kids."

Rodney shrugged. "You can only tell yourself that so many times, Colonel, before it gets old and tired—like me."

Sheppard leaned back in the chair. "Would it help to know my family wasn't much better? My Mom took off when I was pretty small, and my father spent the bulk of his time off doing military things. The only time I really ever saw him was when I'd done something wrong. He'd show up, beat me until my voice was gone from screaming, then disappear again."

"You could at least take care of yourself, stand up for yourself. I had no hope in hell of doing that."

Sheppard snorted. "The only thing that got me through was the dream of flying some day. I saw a bunch of pilots walk by when I was about five, laughing, talking about how free it was when they were up in the air, just them and the plane and the clouds. I spent my childhood waiting for the day I was old enough to enroll in the Air Force Academy."

"Least you had that."

"I wish I could go back and fix it for you. I was a scrawny kid, so I'm not sure how much help I would have been, but if I could have done anything... I didn't look at your memories of your past. That felt too…personal…I guess. I did my best to avoid looking too close."

"It's better you didn't. You probably wouldn't have liked what you saw. I know I don't, but I can't run away from any of it. It just keeps cropping up again and again like a bad B-movie."

"Yeah, if I had looked too close, I'd probably be tempted to hunt a few people down and shoot them for you next time I have leave. But McKay, don't let the past drown out what you have now. This may be a mixed-up and at times bizarre galaxy, but we are a family of sorts. A better one than what most of us grew up with."

Rodney snorted. "Family."

"Yes, family. I know this is more of a home to me than anywhere else I've ever lived. And I…and keeping them safe is important." Sheppard reached over and poked him.

"You know that petty, bad with people thing?"

"It doesn't matter. We've all seen at each other at our worst and our best. And we still stick together, especially when it matters most. That's what family does—it ignores your faults, accepting you as you are. In fact, I've overheard a few scientists whispering that they would never admit it to your face, but they miss your ranting and yelling in the labs. They work better, and harder, when you're there."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "They don't want me to call them on their dumb mistakes, that's all. Nothing more, trust me."

"No, you trust me. They don't like being yelled at, no. But have you actually looked at their faces when they do get a bit of praise? I think you know better than you're willing to admit that most of your staff lives for those moments. Because they know if they can please you, they really have done a good job. You won't sugarcoat it, or lie to them to make them feel better. When they get your approval, they know they earned it. Why do you think so many chose to stay here and continue working, even when the option of returning to Earth was presented to them?"

"A misplaced sense of adventure?"

"Nope. It's because working under you makes them better scientists, and they know it. Have you ever actually looked at any of the reviews the staff submits to the SGC on our performance on a regular basis? 'Hard, but fair and amazing to work for' is pretty much the theme for yours."

"Of course I look, but you can never believe what people put in those things."

"Maybe taken individually, no. But you can't deny it when it happens across the entire staff on a regular basis. Face it, Rodney, you might be the toughest boss any of them have ever worked for, but they pretty much all agree you're the best too, since they actually learn and get better under you."

"Get better?" He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Most days I wonder how they got their degrees. I’m thinking mail order since they don't seem to know any kind of science, let alone the basics of what they're supposed to know."

Sheppard grinned. "There's the Rodney we know and love. Come on, admit it, you've missed being in the labs at the center of everything. I think Zelenka is about to have a heart attack. If you aren't careful, he may throw a party when you get back."

"Doubtful," he said, throwing Sheppard a cautious glance. "And about the labs…"

"What about them?"

"Zelenka's doing fine for now, right?"

"I think he's almost ready to resign if you don't come back soon, but I haven't heard of any explosions. Why?"

Rodney shook his head, focusing back on the PowerBar wrapper. "Might be better to keep him there."

"Why would we want to do that? Even if I thought he would accept, which he has made very clear he wouldn't, I would never ask him. We have you, we don't want anyone else running the science department."

"What if I can't…remember? What if that part's gone?" he hissed, despair in his voice.

"Remember what? Rodney, what's really wrong?" His seat suddenly moved, and Sheppard forced him to look up, his eyes intense.

"I don't know if I remember what I'm supposed to. I can't tell. What if that's gone? What then?"

"Then you re-learn. You're still you, McKay. You still have that genius brain of yours. But I don't think you've forgotten anything important. I think you're just afraid, but when has that ever stopped you before?"

"We don't have time for me to re-learn what I don't know, what I've forgotten. You can't afford the liability."

"We'll make time. Besides, you won't know if you're actually missing anything until you get in there and try, right? So, why worry about it now?"

"Because I'm the only one in this little world that ever considers the reality of any situation. You sit there and say 'if this' 'maybe then'. Reality and John Sheppard have never quite met." Rodney tried to push away, to get up, but Sheppard didn't let him.

"Stop. I'm well aware of the reality of the situation, but I'm also willing to take a leap of faith. Beckett spent hours making sure he didn't touch anything that was yours. I trust him when he said he fixed the problem without causing new issues. Stop creating worst case scenarios in your head, and use the time and effort you're expending to get to the labs and get back to work. It's all still there. Don't doubt yourself."

"Faith," he huffed, "is overrated and usually misplaced."

"I've put my faith in you countless times, and never regretted it. And I don't intend to start now."

"Then apparently your string of good luck may have come to an end."

Sheppard's face was frustrated. His hands tightened on Rodney's arms, almost to the point of pain. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and listen to what I'm saying, damn it. You haven't lost anything, and you're still in charge of the science department. You are still on my team, and we have a mission scheduled to leave three days from now. If you try to leave Atlantis or step down, I'll fight you until you agree to stay. You are needed here, and nothing—I repeat nothing—has changed that."

"How do you know that? How can you be so sure?"

Sheppard leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Because I know. Because while you've been hiding, I've been out listening to what people are saying. Carson and I had to fend off the entire population from coming to see you while you were recovering. And when word got out that you were getting better, the mess staff even started planning to make all your favorites, including that god-awful blue Jell-O. In other words, I just know."

"There's nothing wrong with blue Jell-O," he said, crossing his hands over his chest now that Sheppard had let go of him. "And I'm not you, Mr. Glass-half-full, Mr. Positive."

"It’s not optimism, McKay, its getting out there and seeing how people react. Go to the labs tomorrow. See for yourself. Actually pay attention when you walk through the halls instead of filling your mind with all those equations. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Equations are my job…they're predictable. Orderly. People are…messy," he said, rising to his feet, letting them lead him to the other side of the room.

"I'm not telling you to give up equations, just pay attention tomorrow when you get around. Go to the mess for meals, go to the labs. Take a few seconds to look around before you get involved in whatever you're doing. It won't take all that much effort, and you'll see for yourself how Atlantis feels about you."

"I can't," he said, his voice intense, desperate, trying to get the point across to Sheppard. Trying to make him see.

"You can. One day. Anyone can do one day, even you. Don't doubt yourself, Rodney."

He turned, shaking his head. "It's just another one of your pipe dreams, Colonel."

"Why are you so sure of your own failure before you've even tried? Come on, where's the 'I can do six impossible things before breakfast today' attitude? Even if you have to fake it at first, I'm willing to bet some serious chocolate that by the end of the day you wouldn't be pretending any more."

"Because I've lived my life, Colonel. I know my track record. When it comes to equations and science, sure I'm a genius, but as soon as we get to the messy stuff I’m toast. And right now, my head is full of that messy stuff and I don't know how to make heads or tails of it. I'm remembering things that happened when I was six and I'm having problems remembering what some of the equations were that we used to prolong the life of the ZedPM. If I can't do my job, Colonel, I’m no use to anyone. Now, if you'll excuse me," he said heading toward the door, "I think I need to take a walk."

Sheppard was faster than he thought, moving across the room and catching his arm before he could get far. "Damn it, McKay, would you just listen to me? Everything's right on the surface right now, yeah, but the fact that it’s all still there means nothing is wrong with you. The memories will settle—Beckett said the device might have stirred things up, but in a few days it will all be back to normal. And getting back to your normal routines will only speed that up."

"Or else I'll end up blowing up Atlantis because of a stupid mistake."

"You won't."

Rodney's words were quiet, desperate, resigned. "I don't know that."

"I do. You've trusted me before with your life. Will you trust me now?"

He looked up, holding Sheppard's gaze for a long moment, neither man speaking, the room silent except for their breaths.

Rodney closed his eyes and turned away, a reluctant nod his answer.

Sheppard let go of his arms with a short squeeze. "Try to get some sleep. Go to the labs tomorrow, and watch how people react to you. Come find me if it gets to be too much, or if you just need someone to talk at for a bit."

"But I'm—"

"Trust me."

Rodney sighed, nodding again. "Fine."

"Good. I'll let you think for a bit. Just, for God's sake promise me you won't try to turn anything on down here. And on the off chance Beckett wanders down, call Lorne." Sheppard started heading towards the transporter.

"Sheppard?"

He turned to look back. "Yeah?"

"While I still think this is not only a waste of time, but a very bad idea, thank you."

Sheppard grinned at him. "So this will be the one time I get to prove the Great Rodney McKay wrong. I can live with that. And you're welcome."

McKay scowled as the Colonel walked down the corridor, vanishing quickly from his view. He sighed, moving a few feet back to the chair he'd been sitting in before, and dropping into it.

He still needed some more time to wade through his memories and this was as good as place as any.

***

Carson stood in the doorway watching Rodney. There was a banner strung up over his desk that read “Welcome Back Dr. McKay!” in large red letters, and there was evidence of cake and confetti strewn around the lab. Radek was happily showing Rodney all the notes and reports of the projects that had been generated while he was recovering.

Sheppard had warned him that Rodney was hesitant to come back, fearing he had lost his abilities. He did seem a bit quiet, but the longer he stood watching, the more animated the physicist seemed to be getting. A few muttered “idiots”—under his breath, but loud enough for those around him to hear—brought huge grins to the faces of the science staff. One, Miko, even bounced over to hug the startled man, then blushed and ran to hide in what Carson assumed was another part of the lab. It was nearing lunchtime, so he decided to see if Rodney needed rescuing. “Ah, there you are Rodney. I was heading down to the mess for a bite to eat and thought I’d see if you were hungry.”

He looked up, his eyes wide, his face flushed. "I'm…yeah, that's probably a good idea."

"Come along then." He looked up and caught Radek's eye. "I'll send him back after he eats."

"Yes, make him eat," Zelenka said, waving the too of them off. "He needs something other than coffee in his body."

"Aye, returning to bad habits a bit too quick for my taste. But I heard they have blue Jell-O, so I'm not holding out much hope for nutrition today." He linked an arm through Rodney's and started steering him into the hall.

"I had a donut," he protested, glaring over his shoulder.

"A donut is not health food."

"But it is food," he said, yanking his arm from Carson's. "And what's with the hand-holding?"

"Just getting you moving. I didn't want to stand around all day waiting for you to decide what to do. And there is a difference between junk food and healthy food you know."

"Food is food," he said, keeping step with the other man. "What does it matter as long as it's something that's not a liquid? Besides, chocolate is its own food group."

Carson gave an exasperated sigh. "Your body does need the occasional vitamin, not to mention protein, calcium, etcetera. Humor the doctor and eat something with some actual value in addition to the Jell-O."

"I generally do that, so this isn't anything different," he said, throwing Carson a look. "And how did you know I was in the labs, anyway?"

"I took a guess. Nine times out of ten when I want to find you, that's where you are. I just start there now and save myself the trouble of walking all over the city." In the transporter, he hit the button for the correct section of the city.

"I'm too predictable, apparently."

"It’s part of your charm."

Rodney snorted. "Sheppard told you then?"

"He mentioned you were considering going back today, yes, but we didn't get much time to talk. Apparently a few of the new soldiers needed disciplining, and he couldn't push that off on poor Major Lorne."

"What this time?" he asked as they walked into the mess hall.

"Apparently he got wind of a few of them talking about stealing a jumper and taking it for a joy ride across the galaxy. He wants to discourage that sort of thing."

He chuckled, picking up a tray. "As if he hasn't done it before himself."

"Oh aye, of course, but its only funny when he gets to go along for the ride. I'm not sure if he was more upset that they were planning it, or that he was'na invited to go." Carson was pleased there were things that looked edible today. He took what looked like something akin to roast beef, the little vegetables that tasted like carrots, and passed the pretend mashed potatoes. They didn't taste anything like mashed potatoes.

Rodney grabbed some food, not a lot, reaching for a coffee cup at the end.

Carson deftly took the cup out of his hand, and replaced it with a cup of water. "Let’s not go back to ten cups a day if we can help it, hmm?"

He scowled. "You ask me to come to lunch and then take away part of it. What's that all about?"

"I know as soon as my back is turned you'll down two cups. It's a losing battle, but I'll go down fighting." He took Rodney's arm to steer him away from the coffee and towards an empty table near the back, calls of 'Good to see you back up and about Doctor McKay!' and 'How ya feeling Doctor McKay?' following them as they walked.

Rodney looked startled at the comments, allowing Carson to settle him into a chair without protest.

"You look like you've just been smacked in the face with a fish. What's bothering you?"

"That kind of thing doesn't happen to me." He waved his hand absently before turning to his half-filled plate. "It's just not…normal and a little disconcerting."

Carson gave him a sympathetic look. "Actually, it does happen quite a bit. Maybe not quite as vocal, but how many times have you had a cup of coffee appear beside you when you were working on a project? Or chocolate show up at you door after you've saved the city? People know we came close to losing you this time, so they're just being slightly more overt about their appreciation."

"I…" he trailed off shaking his head.

"Don't just sit there, eat. It'll make you feel better." Carson smiled as he started in on his own meal.

"Right," he said, turning back to the food on his plate, his fork poking at the pseudo-potatoes.

"Why do you keep getting those potato things? You never eat them, you just push them around."

"I eat them," he protested. "I'm just…not as hungry as I thought I was."

Carson sighed, putting his fork down. "All right, what's wrong? A minute ago you were hungry and ready to eat. What changed?"

"I don't know," he said, letting his fork drop to the plate with a metal clank. "Just leave it, will you?"

"Only if you eat."

"Fine," he said, picking up his fork and stabbing it into one of the vegetables on his plate, shoving it into his mouth and chewing it. He swallowed a moment later. "Happy?"

Carson looked meaningfully at the rest of the food, raising an eyebrow.

He scowled again, digging into his plate. "I'm eating, I'm eating."

"Good." Carson grinned and went back to his own meal. "So, how was the lab party? It looked like they went to quite a bit of trouble."

"They did, didn't they?" he said, glancing up mid bite. "It was strange. They should have been happy I was gone for so long, not coming back to work."

"Why wouldn't they be happy to see you? Your staff adores you Rodney." Carson looked up, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Adores? No, not quite. Tolerates is closer to the truth."

"They wouldn't have thrown such an elaborate party if they just tolerated you."

"Which makes it all the more disturbing."

Carson shook his head. "In denial are you? For someone as smart as you, it amazes me how oblivious you can be."

"And I can't believe that Colonel Sheppard might have been right."

Carson opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. "Are my ears deceiving me? Is the great Rodney McKay actually admitting someone else might be right about something?"

Rodney glanced down, eyes on his food. "Fine, make fun."

Carson chuckled. "Don't get defensive. If anything, it’s good to see you're finally realizing just how respected you are."

"How am I not supposed to get defensive?" he asked, hissing the question.

"By graciously accepting that everyone is glad to see you up and about again, and anxious to see you get back to work as normal instead of fighting it."

Rodney snorted, shaking his head, glancing up to look at Carson. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Carson couldn't help the grin. "Consider it doctor's orders if it makes you feel better. Tell everyone I prescribed saying thank you and mingling with the people of Atlantis as part of your recovery."

He rolled his eyes. "Then, I think, someone may actually believe that I've lost my mind," he said.

"Ah, Rodney," Carson just shook his head. "No one wants you to change you know. We all like you just the way you are, prickly temper, sarcasm and all. What's it going to take to convince you of that?

"Nothing short of a lobotomy I'm afraid, and no, I'm not asking for one," he said, scowling. "Look," he continued, "this kind of…attention is just…unsettling for me. Usually the only way I got any kind of reaction from anyone is because I screwed something up royally or I did something that everyone was jealous about. This…" he said, his hand waving a little, "is new and…strange."

"This," Carson mimicked Rodney's hand motion, "has always been there. You were just too busy to notice."

Rodney ducked his head, a light flush highlighting his cheeks. "Sometimes, I think it was better I didn't know. Now I have to actually live up to their expectations."

"No one has any expectations. Is that what this is about? Rodney, they like you, respect you, and are happy to see you up and about after rather too close a call. That's all."

He shrugged, pushing the remnants of his lunch around. "If you say so, but I should probably get back to work."

Carson eyed him, finally giving up for the moment. "All right. I'm going to finish actually eating my lunch, but if you need to get back, go ahead. I'll catch up with you again later."

"I should," he said, nodding, letting his fork drop to the plate with a clank. He shoved his chair back, grabbing his tray. "Thanks for lunch and I guess I'll see you later."

Carson shook his head again. "Stop being so daft. You're going to give yourself an ulcer. And don't overdo it tonight by staying too late in the labs. I'll send someone to come get you if I can't come myself."

"You'll send someone? I'm not five."

"No, you're just a stubborn, cheeky patient I have to keep a close eye on to make sure he doesn't overdo it and land himself back in my infirmary. If you equate that with a five-year-old...well, you said it, not me."

McKay muttered under his breath, his scowl deepening.

Carson didn't try to keep the smirk off his face. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"Nothing," he said, straightening his shoulders as he strode away from the table. A few moments later and Colonel Sheppard slid into the chair Rodney'd just vacated. "He didn't look like a happy camper. I thought we were supposed to help ease him back in, not terrorize him."

Carson sighed, slumping a little into his chair. "That's harder than it sounds. I tried going easy, but he just kept fighting it."

"It's not our fault that he's the exact opposite of any Canadian I've ever known," Sheppard commented, a smirk on his lips. "He okay?"

Carson sighed, picking at the remains of his lunch. "I hope so. He seems to realize he's wanted. He's just having a hard time coming to terms with it. I'm not really sure there's anything else we can do for him. He needs to figure this out on his own."

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a hand over he back of his neck. "No kidding. So, I'm still up for dinner? A little soft music, candlelight…" Sheppard winked.

That startled a chuckle out of Carson. "Somehow I don't think that will make him feel any better. You could try it though. His reaction would be fairly spectacular." Carson gave him a tired grin. "I'll be catching up on my research if you need me. Don't push him this time, as hard as that is. See if he'll open up at all, give you an idea of what's going on in his head."

"Too much, if our conversation last night was any indication."

"He wouldn't be Rodney if he wasn't overanalyzing everything. But he's determined to be stubborn this time, and I'm afraid we can't do a whole lot more until he decides to snap out of it. All we can really do at this point is be his friends and keep an eye on him."

"I guess," Sheppard sighed. "I should probably finish putting together those mission schedules I've been delaying," he said, pushing back from the table. "See you later, doc."

Carson waved at him. "Take it easy, and don't overwork yourself either. Put your team back on the roster. Physically Rodney is ready, and that might be the thing to get his mind back on track."

"I just have to convince Rodney he's ready," Sheppard said as he paused. "And don't worry. The worst injury I'll get today is a paper cut from the paper airplanes."

"Approach it as a given, and if you can, schedule something for yourselves quickly—don't give him too much time to think about it. And don't come crying to me when Major Lorne's airplanes out-fly yours. I'm not going to agree that drops of blood from paper cuts throw off the aerodynamics, so don't try."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, a smile twitching his lips. "I'll keep that in mind, doc. Later."

Carson watched him go, and tried not to sigh. Putting Rodney back together was proving to be more difficult than either of them had anticipated. He got up, dropping off his tray, and headed back to his lab. He did have a huge back-log of research to get through and catch up on, and that was just the thing to take his mind off of one very stubborn physicist.

***

Rodney's day went quickly. Hours blending one into the next until he discovered one Air Force Colonel lounging in his doorway around 2000 hours.

Eyeing him, he continued to work, his right hand plugging away at entering the figures he needed to complete a project he'd been working on.

"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard drawled.

"Oh," he said glancing up for a seconds before turning back to the laptop screen, "you're still there."

"Yeah, I got tired of letting my second-in-command win the paper airplane races, so I figured I'd come look for dinner company."

"I'm not hungry and I grabbed something before," he said, refusing to look up.

"Before as in lunch a few hours ago? Cause I don't think that counts. Not to mention we need to go over the mission prep so you have time to get ready."

That made him pause mid-keystroke, his head snapping up. "What mission prep?"

"Carson cleared you, and Ronon's getting antsy. Lorne and I went over the schedule for the next few weeks, and I put us down to go check out an uninhabited planet in the database. It'll be good to get back out as a team. I e-mailed you the designation so you can see if there's anything in particular you want to check out. We ship out at 0800 day after tomorrow. You usually like to go over what we're looking for ahead of time, so how about over dinner?"

"Beckett cleared me? Well, that's news. Glad someone actually decided to share it with me," he said scowling, aiming his gaze back to the screen trying to figure out where he'd left off.

"I'm here to tell you now. I asked him this afternoon, and he told me I could schedule us. Who knows, maybe this will be the plant we finally find the hidden cache of charged ZPMs."

"ZedPMs and highly doubtful."

"Never know if we don't try." Sheppard had moved to the table, sitting on it, and was swinging his legs slightly.

Rodney glanced up again. "Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some people are actually trying to concentrate here."

"Nope. You're usually badgering me to come down more and turn stuff on for you. Don't you have any cool laser death rays or anything?" Sheppard grinned at him.

"No. And most stuff I can turn on myself, thank you very much," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Was there something else you wanted?"

"Not really. I finished up what I was doing, and thought I'd come talk you into dinner."

"And I thought we'd discussed that part already. Thanks, but no, I'm not hungry and I’m busy, so you can just run off and find another playmate for the evening."

Sheppard sighed. "Fine, I'll be in my quarters if you change your mind. Don't forget to check out the planet info. Briefing is tomorrow afternoon."

"I will. Thanks for the heads up," he said, listening as Sheppard's footfalls echoed down the hallway, the sound fading away.

He turned back to his computer, squinting at the screen as he tried to remember, tried to pull the memory from where it was hidden.

Closing his eyes, he pushed the heel of his left hand to his forehead, trying to shove the headache away. He had to finish this, this stupid project that would have normally taken him an hour he'd been working at for most of the afternoon.

It was embarrassing. Humiliating. All too expected.

"Why are you trying so hard?" Radek's voice drifted across the empty lab.

Startled, Rodney dropped his hand, turning toward the origin of the voice. "What? I thought you left."

"I have been here watching for hours."

"Oh." He turned back to the computer screen, hoping the dim light hid any signs of the flush on his cheeks. "I need to get this completed so we can move to the next stage."

"You are trying too hard."

"I'm doing the best I can," Rodney snarled, turning his attention to Radek who'd managed to approach the lab table quietly. "And I don't need you of all people telling me I’m working too hard."

Radek reached over and pushed the laptop closed. "I did not say you were working too hard. I said you were trying too hard. Doctor Beckett did not give me all the details, but I do know your memories have been jumbled. As scientist, you should know that volatile compounds need time to settle after agitation. Why do you insist that all must be fixed immediately?"

"I need," he said, pushing the laptop back open, stabbing at the keys, "to finish this."

"Why? It has waited a week, it can wait another day. Rodney, I made the device that unscrambled the brain of Ancient possessing you. Then I helped design protocols that allowed said Ancient to be transferred out of your body. Then I watched as we almost lose you to first chair, then lingering remnants of Ancient. Even your brain must rest before returning to full use." He pushed the laptop closed again, and this time slid it away.

"Radek," he growled, reaching for the laptop again, only to have it taken off the table and out of his reach.

"You are my boss, yes, but also my friend. Not to mention, if you injure yourself now, they will ask me to do your job again." He shuddered. "I do not wish to have your job, and I do not wish to see you so frustrated. Call it a night, let your mind rest, and tomorrow perhaps you will have more sorted out."

"Fine." He rose to his feet, stomping toward the door. "I'll remember this," he said. "Kicking your boss out of his lab doesn't look good on personnel reports."

Radek sighed. "Doctor Beckett feels too guilty to do it again, and you chased Colonel Sheppard away. That leaves me to do dirty work."

"I'll remember that, too," he growled, glancing over his shoulder as he reached the door. Shaking his head, he walked out of the labs and headed to the nearest transporter, stabbing his finger at the location closes to his quarters. At least they couldn't kick him out of his own room and he did have a computer in there.

Striding out of the transporter on the other end, he was surprised to see both Carson and Sheppard standing at his door—both looking annoyed and frustrated.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Maybe because we're worried about you?" Carson asked.

"There's nothing to be worried about," he said, stalking past him and into his quarters, the two following behind. "And I don't appreciate you making Zelenka kick me out of my own lab."

"Zelenka kicked you out? And here I thought maybe you had just come to your senses." Sheppard idly walked over to the desk, propping his hip against it and blocking access to the computer.

Rodney scowled, knowing exactly why Sheppard had picked that location. "Are we done? Cause I know I am."

"Rodney, talk to us. Bottling everything up is'na healthy." Carson was leaning against the wall in front of the door, just as effectively blocking the only way out.

"Isn't that what we're doing right now, talking?" Rodney crossed his hands over his chest, scowling at both of the men standing in his quarters.

"That isn't what he meant and you know it." Sheppard stared at him.

"What? What do you want me to say?" he asked, turning back to the Colonel, his hands beginning to wave. "Do you want me to say that I'm scared, that I'm worried that I might not be able to do my job, that Elizabeth might have to pack me up and ship me home because I might be a little bit more broken than a normal person should be? Do you want me to tell you that I'm terrified that I'm going to make such a big screw up that not only am I going to destroy a solar system, but I'll take out a good portion of a galaxy along with the only people who I've considered to be friends, family even? Do you want me to admit that I'm frightened by the possibility that both of you know way too much about me, even more than I'm comfortable dealing with and it's my crap, my life? What the hell do you want from me?"

As he took a breath he vaguely realized he was shaking, his heart pounding in his chest.

Both men had moved to his side, Carson gently pushing him onto the bed, between them. "Rodney, lad, it's going to be okay."

"No, it's not," he said, his voice trembling a little. "It's far from okay, so far from okay that it's approaching horrible."

They each had a hand one of his arms. "First of all, no one's sending you anywhere. If they try, they have to go through me. Second of all, everything's still in there. Carson just jumbled it up a bit. Give it time to settle back down."

"I don't know," he said, the words quiet and laced with panic and desperation. "I just don't know. I can't tell."

"Then trust us." Carson reached up to pull his head around, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Nothing of you is gone. I made sure of that. But in doing so I had to touch every memory, every thought you have in you. Your mind is trying to sort out what's old and can go back to long-term memory, and what's new and needed at the moment. It will take a few days, Rodney, but you have to trust us. Don't close yourself off, it will only make it worse."

Rodney snorted. "I honestly don't think it can get much worse."

"So then why keep fighting it? Why not actually let us help, try talking through some of the memories so you can get it all sorted out. You said yourself it can't get worse, so maybe this will help it get better." Sheppard squeezed his arm.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Maybe they'd all just go away. The words, when he finally said them, were whispered, desperate, and full of pain. "Because I don't know how."

"By talking. What's the earliest memory you have at the moment?" Carson's voice was encouraging.

He shook his head, refusing to look up. "I don't know. There's so many."

"So pick one at random. What about your sister? What do you remember about her?"

He answered quickly, before the memory could drift away. "She cried, all the time."

"Why?" Sheppard's voice had taken on a soothing tone, and both men had their hands on his back, giving him a physical anchor.

"Colicky, I think," he said, shrugging, warmed radiating from his friends' hands. "Always hungry. Mom was always yelling, complaining about it. Dad didn't want to hear it."

"What else?" Carson asked.

"What else?" he asked, opening his eyes to glare at Carson. "What do you mean what else?"

Carson gave him a small, encouraging smile. "What else do you remember about her?"

He shook his head, looking away again. They didn't need to know how much she hated him, despised him.

"Come on, Rodney, don't shut us out. You said you can't get everything sorted out, that you're afraid of what you might have lost. Let us help you work through it." Sheppard's voice held a hint of command and a hint of pleading.

"You want the sad display of a dysfunctional family? I don’t think so."

"It's nothing we can'na handle. And bottling it up is doing you no good. In fact, that's probably why you're having so much trouble. Repressed emotions you haven’t dealt with in years are all right on the surface now. So lets deal with them and get it out, then you won't have to worry about it anymore."

"I don't want to deal with them," he said, his voice rising in volume as he pushed off from the bed, headed for the small in-suite bathroom. He managed to get into the small room, closing and locking the door behind him, setting the mental lock-down command. "Just leave me alone."

He heard muted voices from outside the door, then Sheppard's voice, loud enough to carry. "All right, we can wait. I locked your front door, and you know Atlantis likes me and won't open it until I ask. Carson and I'll be here when you're ready to talk."

He didn't answer, instead wrapping his hands around his chilled body. At least he had some peace and quiet, he thought, his eyes drifting around the small space. At least here they couldn't get to him, couldn't make him talk about his life, about every horrible little thing that had happened.

Eyeing the shower, he reached in and turned it on, adjusting the controls mentally before shrugging off his clothes and stepping in, letting the hot water warm him. He washed himself methodically, mechanically, allowing his mind to slow, to drift, allowing the memories to sort.

He rinsed off and then leaned against the wall, letting the spray hit his tense back muscles, pounding away before he turned and slid down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. Huddling in the corner, he leaned his head against the wall, his eyes open and unfocused, the water cascading down on him. He nudged the temperature up a few degrees and settled in, wishing, not for the first time, that he had a cat.

***

Carson slid to the floor, leaning his back against the bed and stretching his feet out. He watched as the Colonel leaned the desk chair as far back as it would go, his feet propped up on the bed. "You do realize that once word gets out that we spent the night locked in Rodney's room, people will talk."

Sheppard shrugged. "Not the first time," he said. "You should see some of the message boards."

"I din'na think I want to." He cocked his head as the sound of the shower drifted out from the locked bathroom. "This could take a while."

Sheppard listened for a minute before replying. "How long do you think he'll stay in there?"

Carson sighed. "A while probably. He has a lot of family issues, and I suspect that's the main portion of his discomfort right now. He's spent the better part of his adult life ignoring those memories, and now they've all been thrust up to the surface all at once."

"So, overload in a way."

"Aye." Carson listened to the sound of the water, and realized he was starting to doze a bit. He had worked a full day before coming with Sheppard to confront Rodney. He shook himself, trying to wake up. "I wish there was something more I could do to help him."

"If we really have to, I can probably force Atlantis to open the door, but I'd rather that be for a last resort," he said, frowning. "I'm not sure we can help him sort through the mess he's got up there."

"No, don't force the door unless we start to get into tomorrow morning and have to worry about his hypoglycemia. For now, just make sure he can't sneak out if we both fall asleep. He needs to deal with this, otherwise it's going to become a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Sheppard was silent for a few minutes, his expression thoughtful. "How much did he eat at lunch with you?"

"I made him eat about half of it, nutritious stuff fortunately. Why?"

"That was around 1200?"

"Aye. Did you not tell me he said he grabbed something though? Maybe he had something to eat later in the lab. Radek would know. He's been keeping an eye on Rodney as well."

"Radek said McKay hasn't been away from his desk all day apart from the trip you made him take to the mess. I asked him. And now it's going on 2200."

Carson did the math in his head, knowing how long a reaction would take. "Give him until 2400. He had enough at the party and lunch to hold him at least that long. Or if the shower doesn't shut off in another fifteen minutes, you can force the door. I have a PowerBar in my pocket, and I'm assuming you do too. We can get him to eat, get him dressed, then let him lock himself back in if that's what he wants."

"Okay, Doc," Sheppard said. "That might also explain some of his shakiness before."

Carson pushed himself up off the floor. They should at least give him some warning. "Rodney, this is Carson. We know you have'na eaten since lunch, and I'm worried about a reaction. I don't want to force our way in, but I also din'na want to see you back in the infirmary again."

Sheppard watched him, his face not showing his surprise when there was no answer.

Carson sighed, the complete lack of reaction had him more worried than he was before. "All right, see if you can open the door, but stay out here. We don't need to traumatize him anymore than necessary, and it isn't like I have'na seen him before."

"You and me both, Doc," Sheppard said with a sigh. Feeling Carson's wide-eyed gaze he shrugged, ducking his head. "Multi-day off-world missions and some scary-ass aliens who required us in our skin. Don't give me that look."

"And you wonder why there are rumors." Carson shook his head, but grabbed a robe he found hanging near the bathroom door. "All right, open it up."

"Don't make faces. We just manage to get some of the more…interesting missions."

"I just find it interesting that it always seems to be you and Rodney who find yourselves in compromising situations. Teyla and Ronon seem to do a fine job of avoiding them."

"I think the natives take one look at them and know not to mess with them. We on the other hand…" Sheppard shrugged, sitting up straight. "So, are you ready? It might take me a minute or so to get past whatever Rodney's put in place."

Carson grinned at him, then got serious again. "Aye, get me in there to check on him. If he is having a reaction, every second counts."

Sheppard nodded and closed his eyes, obviously concentrating. A few moments passed before he smiled slightly. "So that's what you did. Clever, McKay," he muttered.

Carson felt one eyebrow go up, but he didn't say anything that would break the man's concentration.

"Doc," Sheppard said, opening his eyes, "you might want to contact whoever's in the infirmary. I'm going to have to force the door with a medical emergency override. McKay didn't leave me any other options."

Carson sighed. "Let's see what kind of condition he's in first. My staff can be here in a moments notice, and I can hold him stable until they get here."

"No, my override will trigger an alarm in the infirmary. Might want to tell them to ignore it."

"So that's why the bloody alarms start going off before we've been told anything is wrong." He muttered to himself. Then he reached up to tap his radio on. "Doctor Biro, this is Carson, we have a situation in Rodney's quarters—he's locked himself in and we're going to have to use a medical override to unlock the doors. Ignore the alarms for now. Yes, I'll explain later. Carson out." He nodded at Sheppard that he was ready.

He nodded, closing his eyes again. "Ready, set…go."

And the doors slid open, a cloud of steam rolling out.

Carson moved in, mentally shutting off the shower, a spike of panic going through him at the form he could see huddled in the shower. "Rodney? I need you to respond if you can."

"Go away." The two words were whispered and slurred a little.

"Thank God, he's still conscious," Carson muttered to himself. "Aye, I'll leave you alone in a moment, but you're on the verge of a hypoglycemic reaction. I need you to eat a little something, and drink some water, then I'll leave you to lock yourself back in if that's what you want." He kneeled down next to Rodney, holding out the robe and a PowerBar he pulled out of his pocket.

Rodney shoved the bar away, leaning a little more into the wall. "Not hungry." A moment later he replied, vaguely looking around as a chill made his body shiver. "Cold. Why is it cold?"

Since the room was filled with hot steam, Carson began to worry. He tossed the robe over the prone form, and dropped to his knees next to him. "It only feels cold because your body is starting to shut down. Please, Rodney, I know you want some time to think, but I don't want you to get sick in the process. You need to eat this, and possibly a second one, and drink a little water. You'll feel better, and then you can be alone in here again."

He shivered again, curling up a little more.

"Doc?" Sheppard asked quietly, hovering near the door.

"Get your PowerBar unwrapped and a cool glass of water ready," Carson said tightly. "Rodney, come on lad, work with me here." He broke off a small piece of the bar, putting it against Rodney's lips.

"I spotted some electrolyte-enhanced water in his quarters. Will that help?"

"Perfect." He was focused on Rodney, trying to get him to open his lips and accept the food.

They parted slowly, allowing Carson to shove the piece in. A bottle appeared a few seconds later.

Carson reached blindly for the bottle, bringing it to Rodney's lips next. "Take a sip, then another piece."

McKay obeyed, his eyes closing as he swallowed the water. Another piece of the protein bar made its way into his mouth and he chewed.

"Doc, do you want his glucose tabs? I can probably find some." Sheppard was still hovering, a little closer than before from the sound of his voice, but just as worried.

"Aye, if you can find them, I'll take one. That will help get him stable faster." Part of Carson's brain idly noted that he was now soaking wet, the steam plastering his hair to his head. He pushed another small piece of bar against his friend's lips. "Come on, Rodney, keep eating."

Sheppard shuffled out of the bathroom as McKay opened his mouth again, accepting another piece of the chewy bar even as he shivered.

Carson started rubbing one hand along his arms, trying to get the circulation flowing through the astrophysicist's limbs as the other continued to push food on Rodney. He felt Sheppard behind him again, handing him a glucose pill. Instead of a bite of bar, that was the next thing pushed to Rodney's lips. "Here you go, this will help. Take it with a bit more water."

Rodney nodded slightly, but obeyed the order, swallowing it down. "Cold."

"I know. Once these hit your system, you'll start to warm up. Colonel, can you grab a blanket from the other room?"

"What happened to his robe?" Sheppard asked, but moved, striding out of the small room.

"It's still here, but it does'na cover him completely. I want to try and keep him from getting chilled."

"Carson," Rodney asked, his voice quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to keep you out of the infirmary again, lad. You're very close to a bad hypoglycemic reaction. If you want, you can try to finish this PowerBar on your own, or I can keep feeding it to you."

"Feeding…" He scowled a little, forehead furrowing.

Carson held up the half-gone bar. "You were going into shock when we got in here and barely responding." He took Rodney's hand and put the rest of the food in it. "I need you to eat that now."

Rodney glanced at the silver-wrapped bar and put it to his mouth, taking a small bite and chewing.

"Good." Carson looked up as the Colonel came back in with the blanket. He took it, and turned back to Rodney. "Are you still feeling cold? If so, pull this around you."

"Um…" he began, looking up from the protein bar and toward his friend. "Cold…and wet."

"Aye, you were huddled in the shower with the water still running. Here," He wrapped the blanket around Rodney, covering him robe and all. "Once you get that down, I'll let you try to stand and get dried off and dressed. Then I want you to eat another PowerBar, and finish off this water."

It took a while, several minutes, before the bar disappeared, leaving the empty wrapper in Rodney's shaking hands.

"Good. Feeling better now?" Carson took the wrapper and handed him the bottle of water.

"Little," he said, eyeing the bottle strangely.

"You need to get some fluids in you too. Drink a bit of that, then let's get you up off this floor."

He scowled, but listened, managing to spill as much as he drank. He finally gave up a few minutes later, letting the still half-full bottle tumble from his fingers.

Carson caught it, sighing since half the water in the bottle was now on his lap. He stood, careful not to jostle Rodney in small shower stall. "Colonel, can you help me get him up? I want to get him dried off and dressed. Once we get him out, see if you can find a pair of loose pants and a tee-shirt."

Sheppard nodded, immediately sliding past Carson and into the stall, manhandling the physicist upright. McKay didn't protest—too much—but quickly quieted under Carson's reassurances.

"It's all right. Come on, let's get you out of here." He caught Sheppard's eye and they moved Rodney into the bedroom, got him seated on the bed. Carson used the blanket to start quickly drying him off. He saw the second PowerBar nearby on the bed where the Colonel had thrown it at some point, and he grabbed it, ripping it open and pushing it into Rodney's hand. "Eat this one too. You need to get a bit more into your system."

"But—" he protested, shivering.

"Eat. Please, get that down."

He looked up, eyes glancing back and forth between the two men, before he nodded slowly, taking a half-hearted bite. "Can't…I just…sleep?"

"Aye, you can, as soon as you get that down and we get you into dry clothes. I want to make sure you won't crash again overnight." Sheppard had finally found what he was looking for, bringing over the loose, worn sweatpants and a university sweatshirt. "Do you think you can dress yourself, or do you want me to help?"

Rodney glanced from the bar to Carson, taking long enough that the doctor just answered the question himself.

"Right, you're still not quite all here yet. All right, let's get you dressed."

Sheppard helped and McKay didn't make it too difficult, allowing the two men to work. Pulling the sweatshirt over McKay's damp hair, Sheppard shook his head. "This is…different," he commented quietly.

"His brain hasn't kick-started yet. As all that sugar we're feeding him catches up, he'll start to snap out of it." Carson muttered back. Once they had him dressed, he tossed the soggy blanket and robe aside. "All right, finish eating that. I'm not letting you do anything else until it's gone."

Rodney nodded, the bar slowly disappearing. His eyes, though, never left Beckett. "You're wet," he finally said.

Carson chuckled. "Aye, just a bit. I'll be all right though. Just keep eating."

"I am."

Carson nodded then looked over at Sheppard. "I don't suppose there are any more bottles of that water where you found the first one. More got spilled on him, than got in him, and I want to make sure he's hydrated."

"There were a few," Sheppard said, moving toward the closet, digging inside. He returned with another bottle.

"Hey, that's mine," McKay protested, watching as Sheppard pulled off the plastic top.

Carson took it and set it on the table in reaching distance. "Aye, he's opening it for you. Once you finish that PowerBar, I want you to drink this."

"He's rooting around in my stuff."

"It's for a good cause. Stop paying attention to the Colonel and finish that." He pointed to the little bit of bar left in Rodney's hand.

"But that's my stuff. And why are you here anyway?" he asked, the last piece finally finding its way to his mouth.

Caron felt his face go slack with a bit of surprise. "Rodney, what do you remember last?"

"I was thinking…in the shower. I always think well in the shower."

"And what did you think about?"

He shrugged, pulling his feet up onto the bed. "Lots of things. But that's nothing new."

Carson fought down his exasperation. "Rodney, you locked yourself in the bathroom and went into shock in the shower. I need to know a bit more details about what you remember last other than just thinking in the shower."

"But that's what I was doing," he mumbled, staring at Carson. Realization dawned a few moments later. "Oh."

Carson ran one hand across his face, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. "Rodney..."

"I kinda freaked a little…didn't I?"

"Just a bit. You've been through a lot lately though, so it's understandable. We just want to help you, Rodney. We're your friends."

He covered his face with his hands. "God," he said finally, peering up at Sheppard. "Can you get another glucose tab?"

John silently grabbed another one out the bottle, handing it to Carson, who held it out for Rodney. "How are you feeling now? You sound like you're past the worst of it."

"Still a little shaky. This will help, but I might need something a little more substantial than PowerBars."

"You of all people should no better than to skip meals." Carson sighed, then looked up at Sheppard. "Colonel, can you see about getting an actual meal brought here? Something with protein and vegetables involved."

He nodded, already moving toward the door. "I'll be right back," he said, striding out into the hall, the door sliding shut behind him.

Carson pulled a chair over to drop into, not wanting to get Rodney's bed any wetter than it already was. "So come to any earth shattering conclusions before you went into shock?"

"Sorted a few things, I think," he said after a few moments, his gaze unfocused, eyes aimed somewhere over Carson's shoulder. He lowered them a few beats later. "Sorry about…" He waved his hand.

"You've nothing to be sorry about lad. That's what we're here for—to help."

He shrugged and ducked his head. "I guess."

Carson just sighed. "Rodney, the Colonel and I locked ourselves in your room to try and get you to talk, and I'm soaking wet from sitting in a shower coaxing you to eat since I knew you didn't want to land in my infirmary again. What part of 'we consider you to be a close friend if not closer' do you not understand? My family is generally the only ones I spend this much time on."

He looked at Carson, before turning his head away, red highlighting his cheeks. He mumbled something Beckett didn't quite catch.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you?" He sat up a little, letting some of his concern show.

He turned, flushing a little more. "I said I'm not used to the suffocating attention you're showing."

Carson leaned back, closing his eyes briefly. "We're worried about you. You've not been eating, and after we almost lost you... Can you blame us for our concern?"

"I've just…always taken care of myself. Had no choice, really. This is…sometimes a little more than I can take."

"I know, and I wish I could go back and fix that for you. But I can't. All I can do is be here for you now. You aren't alone anymore; you don't have to take care of yourself without support anymore."

Rodney looked down, studying his fingers, a shiver running through him.

"You should be drinking. I don't know how much liquid you've had since I released you, so try to get that bottle down." He slumped into the chair, glancing at his watch. It was now 2700—midnight in Pegasus. "The Colonel should be back soon with real food. Once I'm satisfied you'll be okay through the night, I'll let you get some sleep."

"I had some coffee," he said absently, after taking a swallow of the water.

"Not good enough. You need to get other liquids in you occasionally you know."

"Coffee's a liquid."

"It has no real value at all. Your body needs water on a regular basis that isn't loaded with caffeine."

McKay sniffed, but didn't comment, instead using the silence to drink from the water bottle.

Carson watched him for a bit, satisfied at least half the bottle had gone down. "So now what? You said you had done some thinking, and you seem a bit calmer. Setting aside the need to eat and sleep tonight, how are you?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Embarrassed. Tired. Oddly a little hungry."

Carson felt a tired smile stretch his lips. "Rodney, you have no idea how good it is to hear you say that."

McKay raised an eyebrow.

"You've been avoiding answering that question for days, or changing the subject and getting angry at us for asking. Not to mention all your memories have had you a bit out of sorts. If you can answer that way, I think its' safe to say you're over the worst."

He glanced around. "I don't see any sheep entrails…"

Rolling his eyes, Carson made a face at Rodney. "And here we are back to the sheep again. You really should talk to someone about this unhealthy obsession."

"I'm talking. To you."

One eyebrow went up. "All right, I'm listening then."

Rodney sighed, glancing down again. "I didn't mean to make it difficult on you…or Sheppard. I didn't."

"We know," he said quietly. "That's why we kept at you. We knew you were hurting, and keeping it all inside was making it worse."

"I just needed to get it sorted, things were….scattered. It made me feel out of control, like I didn't know up from down."

Carson made an encouraging noise, hoped his face showed his concern and care for his friend.

"I was scared…and the attention just exacerbated the feeling. I felt like I was letting you down."

"Letting us down? Rodney, you don't have to do anything except be yourself. We don't want anything else from you."

"They always wanted something I couldn't give," he mumbled.

"They?"

"My parents, the teachers, the boards, anyone else, really," he shrugged. "Most of the people I knew growing up were experts at guilt trips and demanding situations."

"And you thought... you thought we were the same way?" He kept his face carefully blank of anything except concern.

"It felt the same and with the memories so close…"

"You thought we were trying to guilt you into something? Rodney..."

"It's not like I meant to do that," he said, raising his head, his emotions playing across his face. "Everything was so close to the surface, things were sliding together…"

Carson sighed. "I know. You have some very unpleasant memories, and they were all at the surface. It makes sense that you were getting confused. But why didn't you just tell us that? Why try to avoid us?"

"You do know who you're talking to, right?"

He shook his head. "I know. It just never occurred to me, or the Colonel either I'll bet, that that was the problem."

"Sorry," he said, glancing away.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"For putting you through all of this, probably comes to the top of the list," he grumbled.

"No, none of this was your fault, and it's been a lot for you to deal with. This wasn't exactly a run-of-the-mill problem. Don't start adding guilt to everything else."

"Too late."

Carson moved to the bed, grabbing Rodney's arm. "No. Don't feel guilty for anything. Even if you do feel you have something to apologize for—and you don't—it's forgiven."

Rodney glanced at him, surprise on his face. "But…"

"No buts. Don't think about it again."

McKay's mouth set in a line, but he didn't comment, shifting a little on the bed.

"Rodney, look at me. Don't feel guilty for something you had no control over. I don't care, and neither does anyone else who calls you a friend."

"It still doesn't make this any easier. It's not like it'll go away over night. It won't and trust me I know. It took me years to build—"

"I know. The older memories will start to fade over the next few days, but you're right, you'll have to deal with the emotional upheaval. You don't have to repress it again you know. Both Sheppard and I will help you work through anything, get rid of it this time instead of being forced to deal with it alone."

"I don't know any way to deal with it."

"Talking. When it gets to be too much, you can always come find one of us. Even if you don't want to talk about it, just be with other people; I have a few board games I brought back the last time I had leave. In other words, whatever you need, we're here for you."

Rodney finally nodded, the gesture slow in coming. "And I'm getting really tired…"

"Aye, did that daft Colonel go off-world to get you some dinner?"

"Anything is possible."

Carson shook his head, and started to reach for his radio when the door opened and John waltzed in. "Sorry it took so long. The mess was closed for the night, and I was trying to find something other than MREs." He set a tray down in front of Rodney.

Rodney scowled a little. "And what is it?"

Sheppard pointed at a slab of something brown, "I think that's the animal one of the teams got hunting rights to last month, and that," he pointed at a bright purple thing shaped like a carrot, "is one of those vegetables we traded for that tastes like an apple."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "And you expect me to eat it?"

"Okay, I just spent a half-hour tracking it down, then trying to figure out how to use those things the Ancients used for ovens. I expect you to eat and like it." Sheppard glared at him.

Rodney poked at it with his fork. "Are you sure it's dead?"

"Of course. I don't think anything that's been cut into slabs then cooked could in any way be called alive."

"Then you haven't been down to the botany labs lately," he said, tasting a piece of the meat.

John shuddered. "You couldn't pay me enough to venture down to that little shop of horrors."

"You and me both," Rodney said, eating a little faster now. "The only problem is that I have to. You'd be surprised at what they have going on down there."

"You are a braver man than I am then. Makes me glad I'm just a grunt and can find reasonable excuses to avoid places like that. As long as they aren't raising killer plants I will later have to find a way to kill, I am perfectly happy to live and let live."

"Oh," Rodney glanced up mid-chew. "Then I shouldn't have brought it up."

Sheppard's eyes got wide. "Please don't tell me they're raising killer plants. Even botanists have to have some shred of self-preservation!"

McKay glanced away, pushing his food around for a moment before looking up again. "I didn't say a thing. Remember that."

John actually fingered the gun in his thigh holster for a moment before Carson cut in. "Not tonight, Colonel. You can go terrorize the science staff tomorrow."

"You are not terrorizing any of my staff. That's my job." Rodney dropped his fork down on the tray, shoving it away, a good portion of the food gone. "I'm done."

Carson nodded, happy at how much food he had gotten down. "You can go together. Between you I'm sure you can make someone cry." He kept his voice light and teasing.

"I always make someone cry," Rodney said, his tone vague. "And it's usually Miko."

"Ach, half that is for show. She's friendly with one of my nurses. The two of them like to stand around and gab on their off hours, and I get a good bit more gossip from overhearing them than I really want. Miko knows you get flustered when she cries, and she can do it on command, so that's her way of making you leave her alone."

Rodney's eyes widened. "I'll show her…"

Sheppard laughed. "I never would have expected that from her. She has a second career in acting if the science thing doesn't work out."

"If she lives through the rest of the week," McKay muttered. "And can someone take this tray?"

Sheppard picked it up and set it on the desk. "You can contemplate how to get revenge later. It's late, and we're all tired. Carson, is he okay now? Will he survive until morning?"

“Aye,” Carson grinned and stood up. “He’s going to be fine. And if I don’t get out of these wet clothes soon, there will be chafing in places best not mentioned in public.”

"Chafing…" Rodney said, already ducking under the blankets on his bed.

Carson just laughed. "Good night, Rodney. We can talk more in the morning if you want. I'll be in my lab or my office."

"Night," he yawned, his eyes already sliding shut. "Thanks."

The lights went out, and Carson assumed the Colonel had probably flicked them off mentally, as they both paused outside the door. "That went well. He's going to be okay. At some point he came to terms with everything."

Sheppard sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Unfortunately, I'll believe it when I see it. We've been through this a few times now."

"Aye, but I think we're through the worst. Go to bed. We can chat again tomorrow."

"That's where I'd headed. Night," he said, headed down the hall to his room.

"Night." Carson turned and headed for his own room, grateful no one else was awake to see him so bedraggled. He had to smile though. Rodney was going to be okay. He was getting better everyday, and seemed to have the memories under control. Soon this would just be one more of the stories they all laughed about when trying to demonstrate the sheer weirdness of the Pegasus Galaxy.

***

The End


End file.
